Bloodsucker
by thetyger
Summary: Jane remains fired and the rest of the team are suspended as a result of the events that took place during the season 4 finale. Another team are appointed the Red John case and Lorelei remains in custody. How will Red John react to Jane's deception? Who's his mole in the CBI? And will the team be able to catch him before he kills everyone standing in his way?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this story is set after the season 4 finale *spoiler alert if you haven't seen it*. Although I suppose if you're obsessed enough with the Mentalist to be reading this you would have seen it by now, probably more than once! Anyways, enjoy! And review! Happy reading…**

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**Bloodsucker**

Def. _any animal that sucks blood, especially a leech / an extortioner or usurer _

_**Chapter 1**_

Jane peered through the glass that separated him from the woman. Minutes went by, though they felt like hours. Just staring.

After the past few days, the past few months, he was exhausted. Both emotionally and physically. He'd just been beginning to believe that his plan might work. He was so close. And yet he'd fallen at the final hurdle yet again.

Red John had actually fallen for his false break down, at least enough to send Lorelei to meet with him. All he'd needed to do was prove his allegiance. If only the price had not been so high.

The door swung open behind him, though he didn't even turn his head. His brain was close to exploding with all the activity, the constant thoughts buzzing around inside.

Lisbon stood behind him, unsure of whether to speak or leave him to ponder in silence. He'd been through so much, especially in the last few months. She couldn't believe the extent he had gone to just to get closer to Red John. She had always known his intentions, his hopeful quest for revenge, though she had still deluded herself with the faith that he would change his mind in the end.

The events of the last few days had blown that faint possibility away with a sudden gust that sent shivers down her spine. Finally she was forced to accept the inevitable. There was no stopping him.

Other things played on her mind as she gazed at the back of his head, and at the wavy blonde hair that had been absent for half a year. The fact that he had been perfectly willing to trick her and the team so readily to achieve his aim, never questioning for a second the outcome. Since the day he'd been fired she had not slept peacefully. Not a night had gone by when her dreams weren't filled with his face. For every unanswered call it got worse and worse, robbing her of her days as well as her nights. She would zone out whilst on cases, unable to banish the miserable thoughts. Was he okay? Was he addicted to drugs and alcohol? Depressed? Suicidal? Was he even still alive?

And then finally he'd made contact, just as sane and normal as ever. She hadn't completely gotten over her anger at him for that.

But now, that despair was very real. Sure, he'd tried and failed to catch Red John before. Though somehow this time it was worse. He'd been so close to his goal, so close to finally eliminating the man who had murdered his family. She wasn't sure whether he'd recover from that. Not until he finally killed him, anyway.

Despite all these things, one other kept returning to her thoughts, taking them over completely. It was so small, so trivial. And yet she couldn't ignore it, no matter how hard she tried. She'd tried to blow it off at first, blaming adrenalin, excitement and anticipation on his words. But the more she thought about it the less likely these explanations became. They were just two little words, meaningless really. Or were they? They kept circling around in her mind. '_Love you_.' What did he mean?

Suddenly, Jane broke his gaze though the glass, turning to meet her eye. His body slumped slightly with disappointment and exhaustion, his eyes had lost their cheerful spark.

"Jane, we'll get her to speak. She'll be able to tell us who Red John is" Lisbon said confidently, trying to lighten the mood. He had barely spoken since they'd arrived at the CBI. So much had happen in such a short period of time that none of them had really uttered a word, except when interviewing Lorelei.

He simply nodded in reply, though he seemed less than convinced, His eyes focused on his shoes, trying to hide the single tear that ran down his cheek. Lisbon saw it, however, and was shaken. There were often occasions when he was upset, that was understandable. But seeing him cry was not a frequent occurrence. He usually managed to mask his true emotions with a carefree smile, but today he'd allowed them to break though. Lisbon was just praying that this was a one off moment, that the break down he'd pretended to have wouldn't be followed by another one, very real this time.

"Jane, we _are_ going to catch him one day" Lisbon reassured. This earned her a smile, small and unenthusiastic, but it was better than nothing.

"Do you have any ideas that might make her speak?" she asked, turning her attention to the woman behind her, sitting silently with a smirk plastered across her pretty face. Neither of them could really grasp the idea that she had even met Red John, let alone was one of his closest allies. It just proved to them both the extent of Red John's power, that he could gain the allegiance of anyone, men and women, young and old.

"Yes, but you're not going to like it" he replied, finally speaking, though he lacked a certain positivity, a confidence, she had grown so accustomed to. He didn't even seem to gain the pleasure he usually did from ignoring her reluctance towards his questioning techniques.

He swung open the door into the interview room before she had a chance to question him, pacing two lengths of the room then sitting opposite his subject. Lisbon pulled up a seat beside him.

"Hello lover" Lorelei purred seductively, trying her very best to distract him from the issue at hand. She smiled sweetly, innocently, her perfect white teeth glowing. She leant forwards, reaching out and placing her hand on his.

He slipped his hand out from beneath hers, though he never looked away from her face. His expression was stern, unimpressed with her flirting. Lisbon seemed to share his view, glaring icily at her wide eyes.

"Tell us what you know about Red John" ordered Jane, his arms folded across his chest as he leant back in his chair. They never broke eye contact, barely even blinking, both as stubborn as the other.

She smiled again, dropping the charade of innocence and instead seeming unfazed. Her eyes appeared to be laughing at him and his ridiculous questions.

"You really think I'm going to answer that?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and grinning profusely, like a cunning Cheshire cat. "I'm not going to betray him Patrick."

Jane sat up straighter, pulling a small silver coin from his pocket. He twirled it around with the tips of his fingers, allowing it to glint in the light. He moved his hand directly between himself and Lorelei, placing the coin directly in her line of vision.

"You're really gonna try that Patrick? Hypnotism?" she questioned sceptically, shaking her head. "After all these years our friend has done his research on you. He knows everything there is to know about even the tiniest aspects of your life. Including your skill at hypnosis. He's trained me against it. You can try all you like, you're not getting any information out of me."

Lisbon had sat silently throughout the interview, not wanting to intervene. Her look of contempt had remained constant, however, and Lorelei was irritated by it.

"Are you going to try and get something out of me too?" she asked, turning her attention away from Jane for the very first time. "Nothing you can possibly do will change anything. I will not betray Red John."

"You will" Jane spat as he stood up abruptly, leaning across the table, bringing his face as close as he possibly could to hers. "You're going to tell us everything. I will do whatever it takes."

He flung his arm backwards violently, knocking down his chair with a loud clang before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Both women's eyes followed him out, though their faces portrayed very different feelings. One was sympathetic, her face drawn and concerned. The other seemed pleased with his reaction, enjoying every moment of his frustration.

After a full minute, during which time neither had even laid a glance on one another, Lisbon rose and moved towards the door.

"Agent Lisbon" Lorelei called just as she reached out to turn the handle. "You know there was a reason Red John chose me to be Patrick's lover."

"What has that got to do with anything?" Lisbon asked impatiently without turning, unwilling to even look at the girl any longer, let alone speak to her. Her immense hatred for her was irrational, she couldn't even understand it herself. All she knew was another second spent with her was too long.

"He chose me because of you." This gained Lisbon's attention, and she spun around briskly, facing her with a fierce expression that said 'don't try to mess with me'. "You see Agent Lisbon, despite our differences, we bare an uncanny physical resemblance. That's no coincidence." The look on Lisbon's face was venomous, scowling angrily.

"Why are you telling me this?" she growled, wary of her intentions.

"No reason" Lorelei replied with a sly smile, running her fingers through her hair.

* * *

Lisbon left the room, locking it carefully behind her, and headed towards the bullpen, trying her best to wipe the frustration from her face. She was annoyed at how easily she'd allowed Lorelei's words to get to her. Red John had trained her well. But she reassured herself with the hope that Jane would be able to crack her defences and get even the tiniest ounce of information out of her.

Her mood was definitely not lightened when, on entering the bullpen, she was greeted by the one person in the world she disliked even more than Lorelei. Except maybe Red John himself.

"Ah, Agent Lisbon. Nice of you to finally join us" Agent Darcy addressed her, though she seemed far from pleased. Her face was serious, irritated.

Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby were seated at their desks, all three trying desperately to hide their expressions of contempt towards the woman. The only one succeeding was Cho. Granted he'd had much more practice.

Lisbon too had difficulty keeping her face free from the emotions she was feeling. _This woman could have cost Jane his life. In fact, Wainwright would still be alive if it weren't for her._ The second she thought this she knew she was being unfair. Had their positions been reversed, Lisbon knew full well she would have acted similarly. But that didn't erase her dislike for the woman.

"Yes, Agent Darcy? Is there anything I can do for you?" she queried politely, though through gritted teeth. She didn't bother attempting a smile, knowing it would look false and unnatural.

"Can I speak to you in your office?" Darcy ordered more than asked. She had already begun moving towards the door before Lisbon had the chance to answer. She followed, somewhat reluctantly, closing the door behind them.

"Agent Lisbon, it's time that your actions, as well as the actions of your team, were addressed. I was fine with leaving the matter until you'd had a chance to speak with the girl, but I feel it cannot wait any longer." Darcy informed her the second she'd turned around. They stood facing each other, inches apart. Darcy stood straight, her shoulders back and her head held high, clearly trying to intimidate Lisbon.

"The team were only acting on what I told them to do" Lisbon defended, unwilling to let her friends pay for Jane's reckless plans. Besides, she _had_ needed to convince them, they weren't entirely willing after being kept in the dark about Jane's break down.

"So you're saying you allowed yourself and your team to be led by a mentally unstable individual, influenced by drugs and alcohol and on a revenge mission to kill a serial killer? Is that what you're saying?"

Lisbon had to admit, when she put it like that it did seem rather ridiculous.

"Jane was faking his break down to lure Red John into contacting him. And it worked. He sent that woman to speak with him. Red John was ready to meet with Jane, he just had to prove his faith with a gift."

"And that gift was you?" Darcy asked, though she already knew the answer. "So you fabricated the death of Agent Rigsby and your kidnapping, sending the whole of the CBI, the whole state of California, into a state of panic? Do you understand the seriousness of what you've done? Every single member of your team could have been killed, and not just by Red John, but by the police force too. We sent out orders for your capture, alive or dead. Can you imagine the outroar there would be if agents were killed by police officers and it all turned out to be an elaborate hoax to lure out a serial killer?"

Lisbon remained silent, looking down at her feet in shame. Though she couldn't help but notice that Darcy's concern lay with the public's view of the CBI and FBI rather than whether her team lived or died.

"We cannot have people working in positions of such high responsibility who misuse their authority by going behind the backs of their superiors just to assist a grief-stricken man in his revenge. Which, might I add, involves murder. It doesn't matter how many people Red John has killed, Jane will still be held responsible if he commits murder. He got away with it once, and I will personally make sure he does not get away with it again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes" Lisbon answered quietly, nodding vigorously.

"As a result of Special Agent Wainwright's unfortunate death, I have been appointed your boss for the time being. I therefore have the ability to punish you and your team for the events of the past few days. As of this very moment, you are all suspended until further notice. Jane's status remains the same, he is still fired. None of you are allowed inside the CBI for a minimum of six weeks, when your situation will be re-addressed." Darcy seemed almost out of breath from ranting, though behind her serious, stern expression Lisbon sensed pleasure. It had been clear to her for a while now that Darcy disliked her and the team, especially Jane. Now she finally had a chance to act on that dislike.

"But what about Lorelei?" Lisbon pleaded. After everything the only hope they had was that Lorelei would eventually give in and tell them something about Red John. Would Darcy really take that away from them too?

Apparently she would. "Another team will be assigned to the Red John case, and they will be the ones to interview Lorelei."

"But… Bosco…" Lisbon attempted to warn her about the fate of the last team who took over the Red John case, but was interrupted.

"I know about what happened to Bosco and his team, Agent Lisbon. Precautions will be put into place to prevent a similar event taking place again. They will be well aware of the dangers, and will proceed accordingly. Nothing you say or do will change my mind, Agent Lisbon. It's time for you to go and tell your team the news" Agent Darcy said. She seemed to be enjoying her superiority.

Lisbon let out an almost inaudible sigh as she opened the door. Just as she was about to leave, Darcy spoke again.

"Oh, and Lisbon. Don't try anything whilst you're suspended. Next time I may not be so lenient. I'm not afraid to fire you." With that she moved past her to the door, marching down the hall to the office that had only yesterday been Wainwright's.

* * *

Lisbon returned to the bullpen, here face grim. Her team had been waiting expectantly at their desks, Jane lying with his eyes closed on his couch. He sat up when she walked in, eager to hear the update.

"Well?" Rigsby and Jane asked at the very same moment.

"What did she say?" Van Pelt questioned.

"Agent Darcy has been given Wainwright's job" she said, and immediately the mood changed. Everyone stared at her with looks of shock. Even Cho broke his usual lack of emotion.

"She's suspended all of us, and Jane, you're still fired" Lisbon finished, guilt and regret etched on her face.

She was met with stunned silence. They had all realised the seriousness of their situation, but none of them had expected this.

"What?" Jane cried, standing up abruptly. "What about her?" he asked, pointing a finger down the hall towards the room where Lorelei was being held.

"Agent Darcy is going to appoint another team to the Red John case. I know, I know" she said, preventing the oncoming avalanche of comments on Bosco and his team. "I tried to warn her, but she said she had it all under control. I don't agree with this any more than you do, but for the moment we just need to put up with it."

Jane stood completely still, unwilling to process the news. He had been working to catch Red John for months, given up everything for it, and it had failed. The only good thing that had happened was Lorelei's arrest. And now even that was being taken away. He was confident he was the only person who would be able to get any information out of her, and even he would have difficulty. There was definitely no way another team would be able to add any helpful new information to the search for Red John.

He stormed out of the room, brushing past Lisbon, shoulders low and head down. At the end of the corridor he turned cautiously, checking to see if anyone was watching. Once he'd confirmed the coast was clear, he pulled out the key that he'd slipped out of an unknowing Lisbon's pocket and placed it into the lock.

His body was filled with relief when he saw her still sitting there. He'd half expected her to be sprawled, pale and unbreathing, across the table, as so many other of Red John's supporters had ended up after their arrests.

"Hello lover" she murmured quietly. Her seductive tone and glow of defiance had vanished. Instead she seemed worried, unsure. The dire position she was in had finally caught up with her.

"Please Lorelei, just tell me who he is" Jane pleaded.

"Patrick, I can't" she replied. She almost seemed sympathetic. As though she wanted to tell him, but couldn't.

"Just something, anything" he begged, placing his hand on her shoulder.

Her body language changed suddenly, her shoulders loosing their perfect posture. She pulled Jane's hand from her shoulder, holding it tightly as she stared into his eyes.

"You've met before, in person, you just never realised it."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm really sorry it's taken me this long to update! I've been getting a lot of schoolwork lately :( But I'm finally back, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Please review!**

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_**Chapter 2**_

That night, Jane lay awake on his mattress, processing the events of the past few days. The thought of sleep never even entered his head, with so much else to think about it just wasn't a priority. Not that he usually slept much anyway. The images that filled his mind every time he closed his eyes prevented that.

He felt a mixture of emotions, the most prominent of them being frustration. Lorelei was the only new lead he'd found after more than half a year of preparation. And now, even her insight was being kept from him. She was there, just sitting in an interview room at the CBI, and yet she was so far away. It was annoying how close he'd come to breaking down her barriers and convincing her to tell him something, anything. And now she was out of his grasp yet again.

But she had told him one thing. 'You've met him before. In person.' The words had circled around in his mind non-stop since he'd left the CBI. He _knew_ Red John. He'd actually _seen_ him, maybe even _spoken_ to him. So many names, so many possibilities, and yet they all seemed just as ridiculous as the previous.

He'd always thought that the second he was in Red John's presence he would know. Instantly some strange realisation would come over him, and he would just know. It was a daunting prospect that this was not the case. For all he knew, he could have been passing him every day, in the street or at work, anywhere. Day after day, maybe even for years now, and he had never even noticed.

Endless encounters flashed across his memory, and he tried to decipher them all. Who acted strangely? Who seemed out of place? Who was the serial killer that had killed his family?

The sheer effort of questioning every aspect of his life wore him out, and he was forced to drop the subject. But this allowed the other emotions that were tumbling around inside him to resurface.

The guilt of the team's suspension, the disappointment of discovering his plan's failure, and the horror of staring at his boss's glazed, unseeing eyes. He shook his head to clear it, hoping for peace at last. But he knew it would never come. At least not until Red John was lying in the cold hard ground, unable to continue his tormenting.

Over and over again he pondered his actions and their consequences. What could he have done differently that might have changed this outcome? His head began to ache with the complexity of it all.

The early morning sun began to gradually creep through the curtains, illuminating the room with a soft orange glow. Jane heaved himself up, walking over to the door slowly. He turned back around just before he left the room, staring at the red face that had haunted him for every moment, waking and sleeping, since he'd first laid eyes on it. It used to simply be a reminder of the horrible events of that day, an ongoing torture. But now it was more. Now it was a motivation to catch Red John. And kill him.

No matter the cost.

He heaved himself down the wooden stairs to the lower floor of the extravagant Malibu house. He had considered selling it many times, removing himself from the memories it held. But something stopped him every time. He felt that if he sold the house they had lived in together for so many years, would be selling away a part of them as well. It was ridiculous. He knew they had left him long ago, and he didn't believe in the nonsensical ideas of souls, ghosts or spirits. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to part with it. Whilst he was occasionally tempted to leave it all behind and start afresh, he knew he simply couldn't deal with that feeling of loss all over again.

Despite this, he had still removed every other object in the house that reminded him of them. The pictures on the walls, all of little Charlotte's toys, even the furniture he and Angela had chosen together. The house was completely devoid of any personal touches, anything that might cause him to relive the memories of the life he had lost.

Except for the box.

He moved across the room, past the kitchen and tableless dining room to the tall storage cupboard. He pulled open the large, white, wooden doors, then reached up to the very top shelf.

There, lay a cardboard box, tattered and dirty from years of decay. He placed it gently on the floor, as though it was the most delicate thing in the whole world.

Carefully he opened it, peering inside. His stomach churned as the objects inside brought back the painful memories he always tried to avoid. But, just like the house, he couldn't bring himself to part with these small mementoes of his family.

At the very top was a family photograph, taken not long before their deaths. They were hugging each other, Charlotte in the centre, smiling happily. This same smile was mirrored on the faces on her parents, completely unaware of the horrors all three would face in a matter of weeks. Charlotte wore a pale pink dress tied up with a satin ribbon, a matching one holding back her curly blond locks. Around her neck was the locket she'd received for her most recent birthday, in the shape of a heart and with a much earlier family portrait inside.

This locket was the next thing Jane pulled from the box. It was so tiny, the silver looking much duller than it had in the photo. He flicked it open with his fingernail, gazing sadly at the photo inside. Charlotte was much younger, only a few months old, though her face was still lit up by the cheeky smile she'd inherited from him. She was being cradled in her mother's arms, her father's hand in hers.

A single tear trickled down Jane's cheek, then another. He blinked them away stubbornly, though they were replaced with more. He fought against them for a couple of seconds, then gave in.

The next object was Angela's, the bracelet he had given her when they were just teenagers. He remembered the very first time he'd seen her. He'd been up the top of the Ferris wheel with his father, looking for new people to target with their cons. His binoculars had strayed, however, towards the far side of the fairgrounds.

She had sat on a bench, alone, head buried in a book. Her brother was a few metres away, throwing a tennis ball up in the air, then catching it again. He'd seen other kids his age around, but his father had always kept him from playing with them. "You need to practice" he'd tell him. "Playing is a waste of time." But this was different. She wasn't just another kid that he longed to play with. There was something special about her.

That afternoon he'd pick pocketed the bracelet from a woman whilst she sat watching the circus. He'd waited all night for his father to fall asleep, and then snuck out to the caravan he'd seen the girl enter earlier that day. He'd asked around and discovered that her grandparents were carny royalty, practically bosses of him and his father. And that her name was Angela.

Peering through the windows one by one, he found her sleeping next to her brother on a tiny yellowing mattress, a colourful patchwork blanket covering her delicate form. He tapped gently, and she rolled over in her sleep. He tapped again, and this time she opened her eyes. She started with surprise when she saw his face pressed up against the glass, but got up when he motioned for her to come outside.

They'd talked for most of the night, both grateful for the other's company. When the sun began to creep over the horizon, and they finally decided to get some sleep, he'd given her the bracelet. She'd blushed happily, kissing him on the cheek when they parted ways.

Every night since that day, they'd spent together. Her grandparents hated him, saying he was a bad influence. His father hated her for distracting his money-maker from practice. In the end they'd run away from the life they'd both resented.

He was jolted from his thoughts by the sudden sound of the doorbell, echoing loudly through the empty house. Hurriedly he placed his treasures back in their box, wiped the remainder of the tears from his eyes, then went to answer the door.

"Hey Jane" Lisbon greeted him as he opened the door. She was dressed much more casually than usual, in jeans and a grey t-shirt, her hair flowing past her shoulders.

"Oh, hey" he answered, though he was significantly less enthusiastic. He still felt guilty for the team's suspension, and he suspected the others wouldn't be quite as forgiving as Lisbon.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

He nodded in reply and followed her outside.

* * *

They took Lisbon's car, remaining silent for the majority of the journey.

"Where are we going?" Jane asked as they travelled further and further from his house.

"To a nice little café not far from here. I thought you'd like some eggs for breakfast" she replied with a smile.

"Yum, I love eggs" he commented cheerfully, though he knew something else was going on.

"Why are you _really_ here?"

She sighed, wishing that for once he'd just go along with her plans, rather than questioning them constantly.

"Look Jane, a lot has happened in the past few days. I just thought you might like to talk about it." she told him, hoping he would agree.

Unfortunately Jane did _not _agree. "What is there to talk about?" he asked, a false expression of confusion on his face.

"Come on Jane, you know full well what there is to talk about. Please" she begged.

As they pulled up outside the café, Jane gazed out the window. Lisbon got out and started walking up to the entrance, turning to look at him expectantly. He obediently followed her, though his reluctance was evident.

They were seated by a waitress at a small two seater table by a window. Lisbon ordered herself a mug of coffee and Jane a cup of tea as he stared out at the traffic rushing past. He fiddled with the fork in front of him as he watched, avoiding her eye.

"Jane" she called, to get his attention. He pretended not to hear, for a moment, continuing to stare obliviously into the distance, though eventually he gave up and turned to her.

"Mmm-hmm" he mumbled, eyebrows raised questioningly as if he didn't know what she wanted.

"Please talk to me" she begged once again. "I know you're frustrated about what happened with Darcy, and how annoyed you are that you can't question Lorelei, but you mustn't do anything stupid. In about a month, when the team's suspension is reviewed they'll rethink your firing too. Hopefully we'll all get back to work, and then we can deal with Lorelei properly."

"If she's still alive" he said under his breath. .

"Come on Jane. They have maximum security watching her 24 hours a day, 7 days a week" Lisbon reassured him. "They're well aware of what happened to Red John's other accomplices. Todd Johnson and Rebecca's deaths won't be repeated. They wouldn't let that happen a second time."

'They had them under maximum security too" Jane pointed out sceptically

"Please Jane, have a little faith. The CBI will do their very best to protect her. They want her alive almost as much as you do. We _all_ want to catch Red John. It would be impossible for anyone to sneak in unnoticed"

"Except for the fact that he almost definitely has a spy in there already" Jane reminded her. "He lost Rebecca, so he got O'Laughlin to get closer to our team. I bet you the second O'Laughlin was shot he was plotting to place another mole in the CBI. That's provided he didn't have another spy there already. Or ten for that matter" Jane ranted miserably.

"I know, I know, I don't want to take that risk either. But we just don't have a choice right now" she said, pleading for him to understand. "There's nothing else we can do. We just have to wait and hope."

"Do you realise how ridiculous you're being? " Jane practically cried. "Red John is_ not_ going to risk his safety, his identity, for something like this. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. He'll send one of his disciples to kill her regardless of any protection she's given. Nothing we do will stop him from trying to eliminate her, she's threatening his whole existence. He'll just send follower after follower until one of them kills her."

"Just because he tries doesn't mean he'll succeed" Lisbon attempted to remain positive, but even she had to admit, Jane had a point.

Jane rested his head against his hands, defeated.

"Please promise me you won't do anything stupid Jane. I know how desperately you want to talk to her, but you're risking too much" Lisbon tried to reason with him. "Even if you manage to find out something from her against Darcy's will, we won't be able to act on it without serious consequences. I can't ask the team to put their jobs on the line _again. _I'm surprised Darcy was so lenient this time, but if any of us steps even slightly out of line again she won't hesitate to fire us for good."

"I could just find him on my own" Jane suggested, and the look on Lisbon's face made it clear this was exactly the proposition she had feared.

"Do I even need to go into the reasons why that wouldn't be a good idea?" she sighed. "Red John is incredibly experienced in what he does. You, on the other hand, have only ever used a gun a couple of times in your life. The odds are against you Jane, it wouldn't end well. And we're not going to get any closer to him if he kills you. If anything we'll be much further away."

"Yes, but if I take him by surprise, _I'll_ have the upper hand" Jane justified.

"But you _won't_ have the upper hand" Lisbon explained exasperatedly. "He knows after coming so close you'll be even more determined to find him. Plus, as you said before, he's got plenty of spies to monitor your every move."

A waitress brought around their drinks, though neither even registered them, too intent on convincing the other that they were being absurd.

"But Lisbon, you don't understand. I don't have a choice" Jane continued. "He killed my family. I can't let this opportunity pass. This might be my last chance, and I'm not going to risk that. I'm going to do everything physically possible to speak to Lorelei, even if it means putting my job, and my life, on the line. But I won't ask you and the team to help me. I need to do this on my own, none of you can get hurt."

As the waiter came around to collect their meal orders, Jane rose, storming past him determinedly towards the door, leaving his now cold tea completely untouched.

"Jane, wait!" Lisbon called as she hurried after him. He didn't turn, instead heading towards her car. For a second she wondered what he was doing, he didn't have any keys, and his car was back at his house. But as her hand reached into her jacket pocket, and she felt nothing inside, she realised what was going on.

"Stop Jane!" she cried louder as he climbed into the driver's seat. She ran up beside the car just as it drove away. She ran her fingers through her hair, horrified to even consider what he was planning to do. Whatever it was, she knew the outcome would not be good. Most likely it would be disastrous.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3**_

Within half an hour of Jane's abrupt departure, the rest of the team arrived at the café to find their boss sitting on the side of the curb, her head in her hands. After they'd received her phone call they had all left immediately, without even a moment's hesitation. None of them had quite forgiven Jane for the mess he had caused them all, but at the same time they all wanted to prevent him from digging himself into an even bigger hole.

Lisbon smiled gratefully when she saw them walking towards her. She hadn't been sure whether they'd even consider helping again after what had happened the last time. The fact that they would, was reassuring.

"What do you think he's going to do?" Van Pelt asked as she arrived at Lisbon's side.

"To be honest I have no idea. We just have to get to the CBI before he has a chance to do it. I would have already been there, but since he took my car, I couldn't go anywhere. A taxi would have taken longer than you guys to get here, and this place is pretty much deserted, so there was no one to hitchhike with. Plus I figured I'd probably need your help once we got there."

They wasted no time after that, all climbing into the SUV and setting off as quickly as they could.

* * *

As he drove, a plan began to form in Jane's head. The majority of the people at the CBI probably wouldn't think twice about him being there. He'd been in plenty of times before when he was suspended or fired, and none of them had even blinked. The only people who would notice him were Darcy and the men guarding Lorelei.

It would be easy enough to avoid Darcy, since she would have plenty of other things to do, being the new boss of the CBI. But the guards would be another story. He could hypnotise them, but that was provided he could get close enough without anyone getting suspicious.

Of course he could shoot his way in, but then getting out would be the issue, not to mention he would be a fugitive. He'd managed to get out of the charges in Las Vegas thanks to Lisbon, but he doubted he'd be able to pull that off again, especially if his crime was murder. And he couldn't find Red John whilst in prison.

But somehow he had to get to Lorelei. Kidnap her, then do what ever it took to get her to speak. Bribes, blackmail, even torture. He would do whatever it took.

He reached the CBI, parking across the street on the side of the road. He grabbed a baseball cap from the back seat, pulled it down so it covered the top half of his face, and walked across to the building.

Since he knew where all the security guards and cameras were positioned, he managed to make it into the building without too much difficulty. He knew he had to work fast. By now Lisbon would have called the team, and they would be on their way. He knew she wouldn't call Darcy, because secretly she wanted him to succeed. She just didn't want him to be killed in the process.

He used the stairs, afraid he would meet Darcy in the elevator. He jogged up the stairs, skipping every second one, his body pumped up with adrenalin.

Finally he reached the right floor. He pushed open the door slowly, peering around it cautiously to make sure the coast was clear. Once the corridor was completely devoid of any activity, he walked steadily and confidently, as though he was meant to be there, being sure to hide his face as much as he could without looking suspicious.

As he passed Darcy's office, he glanced in quickly, breathing a small sigh of relief as he saw her sitting by the desk reading through pages of notes. With her distracted, completely unaware of his presence, his task was _much_ easier.

Lorelei had been moved from the interview room to a much more secure cell down the hall. One guard sat beside the door, another was positioned further down, pacing up and down, watching for anyone out of place.

To Jane's delight a water bottle sat on the ground next to the closest guard's chair. It was nearly empty, and suddenly a new plan came to him. It was risky, but he had to try.

He waited until the guard down the hall turned the corner, out of view, then made his move. "Would you like me to fill that up for you?" he asked, stepping out of the shadows and pointing towards the bottle.

The guard looked up, startled. He scanned the face in front of him, recognising it, but not quite placing it. He gave it another moments thought, then gave up, presuming it just belonged to another CBI employee.

"Sure, thanks" he smiled.

Jane picked up the bottle, smiling broadly the second he turned his head from his view. He figured the guard was coming to the end of his shift, tired and definitely not expecting someone who acted so calm and confident to be a threat.

He walked towards the CBI kitchen, being sure to avoid eye contact with anyone who might notice his presence and register that he shouldn't be there.

Once there, he filled the bottle with water, then dropped in a fast acting sleeping pill he found in one of the cupboards. It always amazed him what you could find in the CBI's cupboards. He shook the bottle vigorously until the tablet had completely dissolved, then fastened the lid back on and returned it to its owner.

'Thanks heaps" the guard smiled, taking a huge swig of the liquid. For a second it seemed as though he'd noticed the strangely bitter taste mixed in with the water, but he shrugged, placing the bottle at his side.

Now all Jane had to do was wait. Wait and avoid Darcy at all cost. The phone in his jacket pocket vibrated for about the tenth time since he'd left Lisbon, and he decided he may as well answer it. He moved to a remote little nook, hidden from view, and put the phone to his ear.

"Hello Lisbon" he greeted her cheerfully, without even looking at the caller ID.

"Jane! What are you doing?!" Lisbon practically screamed across the line, so loud that he held the phone an arm's length from his ear.

"Calm down Lisbon, it's okay" Jane reassured her.

"No Jane, it is _not _okay. You're not even supposed to be in the CBI! That _is _where you are, right?"

"Yes" he answered, knowing there was no use in lying. Over the years she had picked up a couple of his skills, and _occasionally _she could even tell whether he was telling her the truth or not. He sensed this would be one of those times. "But it's okay, I won't let Darcy find me."

"Jane! That's not the issue here!" Lisbon cried. "What you're doing, whatever you're doing, is illegal. You don't work for the CBI any more, you have no authority to be there. If you try to get into the room with Lorelei you could be shot! Please just wait until we get there, we might be able to sort this out. Jane, I'm warning you, I can call Darcy and let her know what's going on."

"Yes, but you're not going to" Jane told her confidently.

"Damn it Jane, please just think about this for a second" she begged.

"Okay, I'm thinking" Jane informed her. Then, exactly one second later, "Nope, nothing's changed. I'm still going to do it."

Then he hung up.

He peeked around the corner, and seeing the guard hunched over in his chair, fast asleep, he made his move. He snuck over, looking left and right, then pulled the key from around his neck. It clicked smoothly into the keyhole, and the door swung open.

Suddenly alarms rang out all around him. He looked around in shock and surprise. Never, in the whole of his time at the CBI, had security been _this _tight. They never used alarms, the system of guards and cameras was considered enough to protect even the toughest of criminals.

Lorelei had been seated on a small fold out bed, very simple design with a metal frame and plain white sheets. She had jumped up, however, the moment the siren had begun to ring. Her hands covered her ears, and she winced at the volume of the noise. When she looked up and saw him standing in front of her, her eyes widened. He grabbed her, pulling her out of the tiny room.

He ran, practically dragging her behind him. He had reached the stairs before he heard the running footsteps, and his pace increased with desperation. He _had _to get her out. He had to get them _both _out.

He nearly tripped numerous times as he jogged down the twisting stairs. Finally he reached the car park, and he swung the door open without even bothering to check that the coast was clear. He just didn't have the time.

'Patrick Jane!" called a horribly familiar voice. "Put your hands in the air. You too Lorelei" Darcy yelled.

She was alone, though the gun pointed in their direction forced them to obey. Both had their hands in the air within seconds.

Shots rang out across the echoing concrete room, and Jane was overcome by shock. There, lying on the ground at his side, was Lorelei, her eyes open but unseeing, blood gushing from the bullet hole in the centre of her chest.

Darcy calmly lowered her weapon, turning to walk away.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Jane cried as he desperately tried to stem the flow of blood, even though he knew it was already too late. "She didn't do anything! She was cooperating!"

"Well, it'll be your word against mine" Darcy smirked. "Who do you think they're going to believe?"

* * *

Jane was still leaning over Lorelei's cold body when Lisbon and the team arrived a couple of minutes later.

"What happened?" Lisbon asked as she hurried over to him. It wasn't just the fact that Lorelei lay lifeless on the ground, but also that Jane wasn't handcuffed and on his way to jail that surprised her. She leant down beside her body, taking her pulse just to be sure. Nothing.

"It's her, it's Darcy. She's Red John's mole" Jane whispered as he finally sat back from the body in front of him. The front of his shirt and vest were completely covered with a thick layer of drying blood, his hands stained red and splatters of it across his face.

"What?!" Van Pelt gasped, her mouth hanging open slightly as she processed this information.

"She was waiting for us when we came down the stairs, her gun was drawn and she told us to put our hands in the air" Jane recounted for his enthralled audience. "We both listened. She had no reason to shoot. But she did."

"That's definitely suspicious, but how do you know she's working for Red John?" Rigsby asked. "She'd have had plenty of time before now to kill her, why did she wait?"

"Because she's the boss now" Jane explained. "If Lorelei was killed whilst under her supervision it would look bad for her, especially since it's already happened twice before. As the boss she had to do everything in her power to protect Lorelei. So she had to wait until the right opportunity to kill her. And I gave it to her."

"Are you sure Lorelei didn't make even the slightest attempt to escape" Lisbon probed, wanting to be completely certain before she accused someone so powerful of such a serious crime.

"Yes, certain" Jane nodded vigorously. "Just after she fired she said that it'll be my word against hers, who do I think they'll believe. There's no doubt she's working for him. None at all."

"What are we going to do?" Cho queried. "She does have a point. _Anyone_ would believe the head of the CBI over a fired, supposedly insane consultant."

"We might not have a chance to do anything" Jane said, and they all turned to him with curiosity."

"What do you mean?" Lisbon asked.

"Red John doesn't leave _any _loose ends. She may not realise it, but Darcy's just made herself his next target."

"Then we have to talk to her before he gets that chance" Van Pelt said.

"We'd better hurry then" Lisbon noted as she stood up. "As soon as the news of what just happened spreads, this whole place will be in complete chaos. That would be the perfect time to strike."

Just as she'd spoken these words, hordes of people began to fill the car park, coming from every entrance in swarms. The team were quickly shoved aside by medics and agents until Lorelei was completely hidden from them by a mass of bodies.

They made it to the elevator unnoticed, everyone around them completely distracted. Rigsby slammed the button impatiently, desperate to get moving. When they finally arrived at the floor they needed, Lisbon barged out with her gun drawn, her team following her lead.

The floor was completely deserted, and they reached Darcy's office without obstruction. The blinds were drawn, and Lisbon pushed open the door cautiously, gun at the ready.

As the door edged open she froze, unmoving, in the doorway. The gun dropped from her grip, falling with a clatter to the floor, and pushed the door further open with a shaking hand. Her mouth hung open in horror.

Jane pushed his way past the rest of the team to get a glimpse. As he peered over Lisbon's shoulder he let out a gasp.

The very first thing he saw as he looked into the room was the red dripping face smiling back at him from the far wall. His gaze was then drawn to the body on the floor, obscured partially by the large wooden desk.

Darcy was barely recognisable, harsh slashes criss-crossing her body, blood covering every inch of her skin and clothes. As Jane moved closer, he noticed her shoes had been removed, and each toenail painted carefully with her blood.

"He was here" Jane murmured, is face turning white as a sheet. He had to place a hand on the desk to steady himself, his head spinning. The face, the slashes, the toenails. Nobody else could have pulled it off so precisely.

The rest of the team filed into the room, though not one said a word. The silence seemed deafening as each of them took in the significance of the crime scene. There wasn't even the slightest inch of doubt in any of their minds. Red John himself had been _here_, in the CBI. Never had he risked so much, it was normally a willing and obedient servant who carried out such risky killings.

Suddenly the computer, whose screen had been dark, lit up, a new message flashing on the screen.

Jane leant across, reaching for the mouse. He clicked on the message, and it popped up onto the screen with a 'bing'.

The message was brief, only four words long, but the impact was large all the same. The sender was simply titled 'R.J.', no doubt the email address would be impossible to track. But the sentence that spread across the screen would not be forgotten in a hurry.

"You can't stop me."

* * *

**A/N: Please review if you're enjoying it so far! It'll make me so happy, and I'll be motivated to write the next chapter much quicker!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey, sorry it's been so long since my last update! Both me and my beta have been getting heaps of school work lately, so I haven't had much opportunity to write! Then I went on a three week holiday to America (which was amazing! AND I GOT TO SEE THE SET OF THE MENTALIST! It was SO AMAZING!) But, finally, here is the next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't currently, and never will, own the Mentalist :(**

* * *

_**Chapter 4**_

The five members of the serious crimes unit sat around a table in Director Bertram's office.

They had spent the last hour explaining to him, in detail the events of the past couple of days, everything from Lorelei's arrest to the discovery of Darcy's brutally disfigured body. It was now late afternoon, and Lisbon could barely believe that it was the very same day she'd visited Jane at his house.

"So you're telling me Agent Darcy was a spy for Red John?" Bertram clarified, eyebrows raised.

"Yes," Jane said sternly. "She shot Lorelei for no reason, we were both cooperating. And then she told me it would be her word against mine, who did I think you'd believe."

"Well Jane, she has a point. You're not even working for the CBI right now. In fact, none of you are," he pointed out, scanning the room of stony faced agents. "Is that the only evidence you have against her?"

Jane sighed in defeat. Then a gasp from Lisbon drew everyone's attention.

"Yes, there is something else," she cried, eyes wide. "Before Lorelei was arrested, Jane called me. He told me to make sure no one from the CBI had contact with him, because it could compromise his attempt to catch Red John. Only a couple of minutes later Wainwright suggested we should reach out to Jane, help him out. He was about to call him, so I hinted that Jane had everything under control. The only person he would have told about that would be Darcy."

"So…?" Bertram prompted.

"So Darcy was the one who told Red John that Jane was playing him. If Wainwright told her I said Jane was fine, she would have worked out I'd had contact with him. She warned Red John, that's why he wasn't in that car."

"Or Wainwright told him," Bertram suggested.

"Wainwright was tied up in the back of the car, then shot and killed, Jane recounted. "I know Red John doesn't treat his minions too well, but I'm pretty sure if Wainwright was working with him there wouldn't be any need to tie him up in the first place. He wouldn't have known he was about to be shot."

"True, true," Bertram nodded thoughtfully. "But what if Red John was never planning to meet you anyway?"

"That's also possible, but when I met Lorelei at that car she seemed certain I had no intention of joining Red John. Before that she'd believed me, I'm sure of it."

"Okay, so maybe Darcy _was_ working for Red John," Bertram conceded. "That's kind of good isn't it? I mean, now he no longer has a mole in the CBI."

"Before I probably would have agreed with you," Jane said. "But I'm not so sure any more. I think he's even _more _powerful than we originally thought. He's probably already got someone else spying on us. Probably numerous people."

Bertram sat in silence for a moment, weighing up his options, his head rested on his hands. On the one hand, sitting in front of him was a team of rogue agents, who had on many occasions been completely willing to defy direct orders in their mission to find Red John, and been manipulated and controlled by an individual far to close to the case than was wise.

But, on the other hand, they were the best team in the whole of the CBI. And, as he had always said, Jane closed cases. That was a fact. There wasn't a team in existence who would work harder on this case than they would.

He raised his head, looking at the anxious faces in front of him, staring back. He sighed, then delivered his verdict.

"I will reinstate you all, including Jane," Bertram addressed Lisbon. "But only because you're team has the most experience working the Red John case. However, if _any _of you do _anything _that could reflect badly on the bureau, you won't be getting another chance."

All simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief, finally breaking into smiles for the first time that day. With the exception of Cho, of course.

"Thankyou," Lisbon beamed, clasping Director Bertram's hand in gratitude.

"Just don't mess it up," he told them as they filed out of his office.

* * *

The team sat at the table in the bull pen. Even Jane had left his couch, an indicator of just how serious this investigation had become.

"We should start by examining everything in this whole building," Lisbon suggested.

"But that's pointless," Jane retorted. "There is no way Red John would have left any evidence whatsoever unless he wanted us to have it. He would have been even more careful than usual given he was actually _inside _the CBI."

"We should still give it a shot," Lisbon told him. "Besides, maybe the danger of being caught distracted him, and he did something out of the ordinary."

Jane didn't seem convinced, though he didn't bother complaining since he knew it would make no difference.

"Rigsby, I want you and Van Pelt to check the surveillance footage. Even if it _has _been switched, it's possible something was missed.

Cho, you look around Darcy's office, see if there's anything there that could help us. Jane and I will go take a look at her house."

As the team filed out of the room to begin their search, Jane remained seated, deep in thought. Lisbon watched him for a few moments, though he seemed oblivious to her gaze. She returned to her seat, resting her elbows against the table, her palms on her chin.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, concerned at his sudden lack of interest in their investigation.

"It's just that, well, before his spies had always been fairly important. A secretary at the CBI, an FBI agent. But Darcy? She was the head of the CBI. She was powerful, she could have done virtually anything." He sighed, then continued. "Suddenly I'm feeling like anyone I meet could be working for him. Anyone, from random people on the street to people I've been working with for years and years. For all I know, _you_ could be working for him."

Lisbon sat in silence, considering his concerns. At first she was tempted to just assume he was being paranoid and move on. But she had to admit, he had a point. She thought about everyone they'd come into contact with in the past few years. None of them seemed like candidates for Red John's followers, but then, neither did O'Laughlin, Lorelei, Rebecca or Darcy.

They were all so different, and yet he had chosen them. The more worrying thing about them, though, was the fact that Jane had never suspected them. Somehow she had always felt safe because of Jane's skill at reading people, working out their personalities after knowing them for just a few minutes. Yet he hadn't picked any of them as minions for Red John.

It was so easy for him to get to them. For the first time she began to wonder whether they were in way over their heads. He could kill them at any moment, with no warning. He could track their every move, and they would be none the wiser. He seemed impossible to beat.

And then there was the other thought that had been bugging Lisbon for a while now. Red John's followers seemed never ending. Whenever one was killed, another would be ready, just waiting to infiltrate some of the most secure organisations in the country. She couldn't help wondering what would happen to them all when Red John was finally killed.

Sure, some would be arrested, and some would go back to the lives they'd lived before he'd entered them. But surely his closest friends wouldn't be able to let the lifestyle of a serial killer's assistant go. What if, once he died, another stepped up to his place? What if it was a never ending cycle that could never be stopped?

But she knew these weren't the sort of scenarios she should be considering. They had to keep the investigation going.

She turned back to Jane, a look of understanding on her face. "I know all this is hard. And you're right; anyone we meet could be working for Red John. They could even _be _Red John. But worrying about that isn't going to catch him. We need to stay focused."

He nodded his head in agreement, and together they set off to investigate Darcy's house, praying for something, anything, that might move the investigation forward.

* * *

Van Pelt and Rigsby stood beside the CBI employee in charge of monitoring the security cameras. He was a slim, twig like figure, with wide rimmed glasses and a slight stammer. Whilst he was awkward around people, his computer skills were astounding.

"I-I've checked all t-t-through the footage, and you were right," he informed them quietly, his head tilted to the ground as he spoke, his fingers twitching as he clasped his hands together. "The f-footage from a couple of m-months ago was lifted and placed where the footage from t-today should be. I w-w-wouldn't have noticed it if you hadn't pointed it out, whoever d-d-did this is very skilled."

"Is there any way you can track whoever changed the footage around?" Van Pelt asked hopefully.

"N-normally, it would be easy. Most p-people don't cover their tracks on the internet very efficiently. But t-t-this guy, he's smart. He's bypassed about ten different servers from all over the w-w-world, making it impossible to find even the state he's in."

"Well, is there any footage that he missed? Something that doesn't fit?" Rigsby suggested.

The guy sat himself back down in front of the dozens of screens, typing on his keyboard at lightning pace. Numbers in green scrolled down the screens, as the computer whizz typed in code after code. Even Van Pelt, who had a reasonably good understanding of computer software, was completely confused by the whole thing. Rigsby just stared, awestruck.

Within a couple of minutes the young man turned back around, facing them once more.

"There is absolutely n-nothing out of the o-ordinary on any of the cameras. Your guy must be some sort of c-c-computer hacker, or at the very least knows someone who is."

Van Pelt and Rigsby thanked the young man, who returned to his high speed typing, and left with no new insights at all.

* * *

Cho had turned Darcy's office upside down in his search for clues, and the place had begun to look like a herd of rhinos had been let loose inside. Every folder on the bookcase, every file in the cabinet and every sheet of paper lying on her desk had to be sorted through. This task had taken him about three hours, and very little had been achieved in this time.

Although he _had _found a rather interesting cardboard box, with 'Jane' written on the front in black marker, which contained every complaint ever filed against him. Needless to say, reading the contents of this had made Cho smile for the first time that day. Well, more likely that month.

He had then moved on to her computer, clicking folder after folder. At first they had contained information on every single case worked on by every single team in the entire CBI, but as he dug deeper, he found documents of a much more interesting nature.

A folder labelled 'private' held a detailed analysis on every member of his team, everything from their day to day behaviour and work on cases to a comprehensive outline of their personality traits.

He continued searching the desktop, then moved to internet activity. A number of emails had been sent to a variety of accounts, some work related, some personal, and some encrypted. Cho copied the addresses down, moving the mouse across the screen to the button entitled 'history'.

Darcy had deleted the history, but not efficiently enough for it to be untraceable. Cho used the computer skills very few knew he possessed to recover the most recently viewed websites.

The majority had been news sites, and some others were related to various cases. But a suspiciously large number were blogs and news updates on the Red John case. He would have expected one or two Red John related searches, but certainly nowhere near this many. And definitely not three or four times every single day.

* * *

The SUV came screeching to a stop outside Darcy's house. It was a lavish looking place for a former FBI agent, even for the agent in charge at the CBI. It was a neat, two story building, with a small, white stone balcony above the entrance, which was also white. The garden was manicured neatly, with shaped trees and roses lining the property.

Lisbon wondered to herself where Darcy might have earned the sort of money to keep a place like this so neat. It was certainly a possibility that Red John had contributed to this fund, rewarding Darcy's loyalty.

She followed Jane up the pebbled path to the entrance. She almost commented on their lack of keys, though before she could speak Jane had pried the door open with a safety pin. It swung open welcomingly.

The hallway, too, seemed expensive, with marble flooring and a high ceiling. Lisbon would never have picked Darcy as the extravagant type, but as she moved further and further into the dwelling, she began to realise just how mistaken she'd been.

They passed the kitchen, dining and lounge rooms without bothering to stop. If Darcy had left any evidence of her secret life, it would be in her bedroom or study.

The bedroom was the first one they came to. It was furnished simply, a queen sized bed in the centre of the room, chest of draws on the side wall and a matching wooden wardrobe opposite.

Lisbon began emptying the wardrobe, and Jane mirrored her at the chest of draws. Within moments the floor was completely littered with clothes.

Jane began pulling the draws out one by one, investigating each one for a hidden storage compartment. Lisbon climbed inside the wardrobe, tapping the walls, ear pressed against them, listening for a section that sounded too hollow.

Once the walls had been cleared from suspicion, she moved her attention to the wood above her head. She moved her fist up, rapping hard with her knuckles. The whole piece gave way, and she narrowly avoided being hit by the falling shards.

"Good work Lisbon," Jane praised with a smirk. She seemed unimpressed.

Together they sorted though the piles of wood.

"Here," Jane called across to her, holding a sheet of paper above his head in victory. Lisbon turned to see his discovery, though froze, distracted by something just behind his head.

"Hello, I'm here," Jane waved his arms about, trying to regain her attention. When she didn't react, he turned his head to see for himself what she was so fixated on.

And found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry about the cliffy! It's getting intense! I'll try to update as soon as possible! And pretty pretty pretty please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks heaps to everyone whose been reviewing! I absolutely LOVE reading all your comments! Please continue, they honestly make my day!**

**And thanks again to my fabulous beta!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist**

* * *

_**Chapter 5**_

"Both of you, put your hands in the air," the familiar voice ordered, echoing through the sudden silence that had engulfed the room.

They obeyed, staring in shock at the man before them, whose form took up most of the doorway. His eyes jerked from side to side in their sockets, his hands steadying the pistol to point it directly at Jane's forehead.

"LaRoche?" Lisbon gasped in horrified realisation. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open slightly, completely stunned. She ran through plausible explanations for his current actions in her head that_ didn't_ involve him working with Red John, though came up blank.

"Don't speak," he ordered with a yell, surprising the pair before him. Whilst the ex-CBI Supervisory Agent had always been intimidating, he had never needed to resort to raising his voice. It seemed so unnatural to them, and succeeded in intimidating them more than ever.

"Lisbon, very slowly remove your gun from its holster and slide it across the floor." He ordered, and she didn't even _consider _disobeying him for a second. She reached for the gun strapped to her side carefully, keeping eye contact with him to emphasize her willingness to comply with his every request. There was little else she could do, after all, since he had a gun focused between Jane's eyes. She slid the gun across the carpet, keeping one hand in the air as she did so.

LaRoche bent down to retrieve the surrendered weapon, all the while pointing his own gun at Jane. He straightened back up, placing his pistol in the back pocket of his jeans, holding Lisbon's gun at his side.

Jane breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as he was finally put out of immediate danger, though still didn't speak. He didn't want to risk provoking LaRoche, knowing full well how threatening he could be when angry, and that he wouldn't hesitate to act on these threats.

"Now, both of you, stand up slowly, keeping your hands above your head. Don't move even a single step forwards or backwards, otherwise I _will_ shoot you." It was clear from the serious look in his eyes that he was completely willing to act if they disobeyed.

The pair rose, their hands shaking slightly in the air. Jane's eyes darted around the room, searching for any possible escape from the predicament they were currently facing. Nothing came to mind, so he resorted to distraction, hoping he could delay LaRoche long enough for a plan to form in his mind.

"So LaRoche, I haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?" he asked cheerfully, somehow managing to sound completely genuine despite the effort needed to prevent himself from trembling visibly in fear. Whilst he was fairly certain Red John wouldn't send a mere disciple to kill _him_, Lisbon was a different story. He suspected LaRoche wouldn't even think twice before eliminating her were it necessary.

"Shut up," was his stern reply to Jane's insincere query. He moved towards Lisbon, keeping the gun pointed towards her head as he walked. Jane took the opportunity he had just been given, lowering his arms and holding his hands behind his back. Pulling the handcuffs from Lisbon's belt, LaRoche attached them roughly to her wrists, then held her arm tightly. He pressed his gun hard against her head, then turned his attention back to Jane, though not before snatching the paper Jane had discovered from the ground in front of him and scrunching it into his pocket.

"Patrick, either you follow and listen to every order I give you, or she dies," he explained over his shoulder, leading Lisbon out of the room. Jane hurried close behind.

* * *

Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby returned to work to the next morning, and were surprised to find Jane and Lisbon still not present. They were always the first at the office, Lisbon busy filling out piles of paperwork, Jane sipping tea as he relaxed on his couch. It had been late the night before when they'd each finished their individual tasks, and they'd headed home without regrouping.

"It's strange, I tried calling Lisbon before I left last night, but she didn't answer her phone," Van Pelt said, her brow creased. "I figured it was out of battery, since it was about eleven and she would have had it on all day."

"Really?" Rigsby asked, "Because I tried Lisbon twice, and then Jane. Eventually I just presumed they called it a day, and I went home myself."

Cho stared at them both, before contributing his own troubling information. "That couldn't have happened though, because I called Lisbon at her house, and she didn't answer there either. I just thought she hadn't got back yet."

The three stood unmoving for a moment as they processed the situation.

All at once they burst into action, heading towards the lift down to the SUV. Van Pelt pulled out her mobile as they walked, dialling Lisbon's cell and home phone, then trying Jane. Again, she had no luck. They piled themselves into the car quickly, Van Pelt taking the wheel. She sped out of the car park, sirens blaring, as she swerved in and out of traffic with the driving skills few knew she possessed.

"They were going to Darcy's house, so if something did happen to them, it would have happened there," Van Pelt informed them as she drove towards the property. The boys nodded in silent agreement.

* * *

When they arrived, they knew immediately something was wrong. The black SUV Lisbon had been driving was still parked in the driveway. They drew their guns and walked cautiously up the path to the front door, unsure of what to expect. Cho tried the handle, and when it opened without resistance, the three shared a knowing look of apprehension. Lisbon would _never _leave a door unlocked.

"Hello?" Rigsby called across the hallway, his voice echoing throughout the deserted building. When he received no reply he continued, gun raised. Cho and Van Pelt followed, and they moved from room to room, calling 'clear' as they determined each was devoid of their friends, or someone more dangerous.

Van Pelt was the first to reach the bedroom, and immediately she knew something had happened here. Tiny shards of wood were scattered across the floor, which she knew Lisbon would have cleaned up given the chance. Once she'd checked the room for hidden dangers, she called to Rigsby and Cho to join her.

They hurried in moments later, guns at the ready. After they had established she was not in any immediate danger, their attention was drawn to the pile in the centre of the room. Both came to the same conclusion Van Pelt had moments before. Whatever had happened to their boss and Jane had happened here.

Splitting up to investigate the rest of the room, they quickly discovered further clues. The carpet was soft, and footprints were easily visible. Cho noticed that there were still hints of Lisbon's heeled boots, as well as the soles of Jane's favourite brown shoes. However, a third set of prints, much larger and deeper, were also visible. They were most prominent at the doorway, however they were also noticeable to and from the little pile of wood.

By the bed, Rigsby gasped suddenly, catching Van Pelt and Cho's attention abruptly. He was crouched by the back left leg of the bed, and held up an item they all recognised instantly.

"Jane's phone!" Van Pelt cried as she hurried over. It was an old phone, incredibly chunky compared to the iPhones the rest of the team used. However, Jane insisted on keeping it, saying it was 'far better than that modern rubbish.' He wasn't interested in technology.

"Jane must have had time to leave us a message before… well, before what ever happened to him happened," Rigsby said as he pressed a button on the phone, lighting up the tiny digital screen. Van Pelt and Cho gazed over his shoulder expectantly at the screen, which had a single word written across it.

'LAROCHE.'

"Wait, so LaRoche kidnapped Jane and Lisbon?" Rigsby asked, slightly confused. Whilst none of them had liked LaRoche, they had never suspected he was anything more than an irritating man who loved to watch his inferiors squirm in discomfort. Certainly 'kidnapper' had never come to mind.

"Well, he must have kidnapped them, or else they'd be here," Cho said. He knew full well there was one other option, though he didn't even want to consider it. Lisbon and Jane had to be okay. They just had to be.

"Hold on, does that mean LaRoche is working for Red John?" Van Pelt questioned. "Why else would he kidnap Jane and Lisbon inside Darcy's house? Maybe he was here to get rid of evidence that might lead us to Red John, and he found them here already."

"What if Jane wrote LaRoche because he wanted us to go and talk to him?" Rigsby suggested, not entirely convinced, but still unsure about LaRoche working for Red John.

"The footprints across the room suggest LaRoche was here," Cho contributed, quashing Rigsby's faint hope of their former colleague's innocence. "As well as Jane and Lisbon's prints, there are another set, much larger and deeper. LaRoche is a big guy. He'd have feet that big and heavy."

"So what do we do now?" Rigsby questioned. Whilst they were fairly sure LaRoche was behind the disappearance of their friends, they had no idea where he would take them.

"Maybe if we go to his house we can find something out there," Van Pelt suggested. She knew it would be dangerous. LaRoche could be home, and he would most likely react violently to them turning up at his doorstep. But they had to help their friends.

So to LaRoche's house they went.

* * *

Lisbon and Jane had been led out to the back of Darcy's property, then thrown into the back of a large, dark blue SUV. LaRoche had retrieved a pair handcuffs from the glove box, handcuffing Jane as well, so neither could escape.

He'd then climbed into the driver's seat, informing them just before he started the engine that if either of them attempted escape, he would shoot Lisbon. Jane, he said, was for Red John alone.

Then he drove for what seemed like hours. He had covered the rear windows with dark sheets, leaving them unable to see anything but blackness for the entire journey. At first they had sat in compete silence, scared and unsure how much of their conversation LaRoche would be able to hear. However, as the drive continued, their driver relaxed slightly, turning on the radio and providing them with just enough noise to mask their voices.

"Jane," Lisbon whispered across to him. He'd had his eyes closed, though he opened them at the sound of her voice.

"Oh, hey Lisbon," he smiled, though he sounded tired. He shuffled into a more comfortable position awkwardly, given he was unable to use his hands, then yawned widely.

"What are we going to do?" Lisbon asked with despair, praying he had some sort of plan in mind. They had been in difficult situations before, but this time things seemed much grimmer since Red John was clearly involved. His ruthlessness was obvious, and perhaps he had decided Jane and Lisbon were simply too close to discovering his true identity, and needed to be eliminated.

Jane paused for a moment, looking cautiously in LaRoche's general direction, then leant in closer to whisper in her ear.

"I left my phone in Darcy's bedroom, with 'LaRoche' typed on the screen. Hopefully the team will find it and work out where we are. Somehow…"

She was relieved he had some sort of idea, though she was doubtful of how effective it would be. Even if the team managed to find his phone, finding out where LaRoche was taking them would be much more challenging. But they could do nothing more than hope.

The drive continued, the terrain getting rougher and rougher the further they went. Lisbon had drifted off when the car came to a sudden stop, jolting her awake suddenly. Moments later they were practically blinded by the morning light as it engulfed the tiny space that had been pitch black seconds before. It was only then that they realised just how long they had travelled for, from evening to mid-morning. Lisbon realised with dismay that they could be literally anywhere.

LaRoche pulled them out, and they took in their surroundings. There were endless trees in every direction, stretching out as far as the eye could see. The SUV had travelled along a narrow gravel path, which ended directly in front of them, where a little wooden house sat. It looked old, the wood beginning to chip away in places, grass growing half way up the walls.

Grabbing each by the arm, he led them up to the huge, carved wooden door. He pulled an old fashioned key from the pocket of his jeans, clicking it into the keyhole. He pushed, and the door swung open.

They passed a neat little kitchen, a bathroom and a small dining area, before reaching the lounge room. It was simply furnished with a couch, small table, TV and cabinet. Across the floor was a beautifully woven rug, which LaRoche moved towards. He rolled it up slowly, revealing a trap door beneath, which he unlocked and heaved open.

"In you go," he ordered, pointing an outstretched arm towards the small opening.

"We can't get down there with our hands tied," Jane pointed out. LaRoche seemed irritated by this statement, glaring at Jane with his arms crossed. Suddenly, his temper seemed to blow, and he grabbed Jane by the collar and pushed him down the opening. Lisbon winced at the thump that sounded loudly seconds later as his body connected with the hard wooden floor. LaRoche looked at her expectantly, and she struggled down the ladder without comment.

When she reached the bottom, somehow without injury, LaRoche peered down the opening. Then he reached up a hand and pulled down the door, surrounding them in darkness once again.

* * *

Lisbon hurried over to Jane, who lay unmoving on the floor.

"Jane? Jane! Are you alright," she asked worriedly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He groaned, rolling over slowly, clearly in pain. He seemed dazed, and Lisbon suspected he had hit his head on the way down. Far more worrying, however, was the odd angle of his right leg.

"Jane, can you hear me?" she cried, desperate to receive an answer. He turned his head to look up at her, the agony clear in his eyes.

"My… leg," he gasped, his hands closed into tight fists behind his back in order to deal with the pain.

On closer examination, Jane wincing with even the slightest touch, she confirmed it was broken. She needed to brace it with something, though with her hands cuffed behind her back, that would be near impossible.

Jane, too, realised the same thing. He reached a hand into his pocket, pulling out a paperclip. He hadn't dared try unlocking their cuffs in the car, knowing LaRoche could have killed Lisbon had he found out. However, down here they were much safer. Jane doubted LaRoche would check in on them often, given the security of the small underground room.

He stretched the paperclip out until it was just one lone piece of wire, then placed it between two fingers, moving it around until he found the keyhole. Moments later, with a click, he was free. He then unlocked Lisbon's restraints, much more quickly this time since he could actually see what he was doing.

Her wrists were red raw where the cuffs had dug into her skin, and she rubbed them as she searched the small room for anything to keep Jane's leg straight. The cool concrete walls that surrounded them prevented escape completely, so LaRoche hadn't bothered clearing out the unneeded objects from the room.

Piled against a corner were three old, wooden crates. Lifting the lid, Lisbon found they contained the food they would need to survive. In the opposite corner was a small toilet, a sink and a tiny mattress. Scattered across the floor were numerous odds and ends; nails, string, a couple of pencils, scraps of paper and a small pile of books. She also found a light switch, which when flicked illuminated the room in a dull orange glow.

She pulled one of the loose boards from a crate, grabbed the small reel of string, then headed back to where Jane lay. He winced as she tied wood to his leg with the thin string, though she worked slowly and carefully to reduce his pain. It wasn't the best splint ever, but it was certainly better than nothing.

Once it was secured, she leant against the wall beside him, and let the exhaustion take over, drifting off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I am so sorry it's taken me this long to update! I have been really busy with school and exams and work experience and life, etc, etc...**

**But here, finally, is the next chapter :) Please read and review! Hopefully I can get the next chapter up much quicker this time!**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately I don't own the Mentalist...**

* * *

_**Chapter 6**_

Rigsby pulled into LaRoche's driveway slowly and carefully, wary not to be seen. In the passenger seat, Van Pelt peered up the path, trying to get a glimpse through the windows to see if their old boss was home. There were no cars parked under the car port, or even in the street, but she didn't want to assume anything in case she was mistaken.

They climbed out of the SUV, guns at the ready as they hurried up the pathway to the front door. Cho gazed inside, and with no lights on or signs of movement, he knocked. Van Pelt held her breath, begging LaRoche not to come to the door. _That_ would be a difficult situation to explain.

They waited a few moments to make absolutely sure he wasn't home, and whilst they wait they searched around for a spare key. The typical locations; under the doormat, in a nearby flowerpot, were empty, but eventually it was Cho who noticed a golden key resting on the very top of a windowsill. It clicked into the keyhole, and the door swung open easily.

Once inside, the three tiptoed silently down the hallway and then split up, clearing each of the rooms one by one. Once the entire house was indeed empty, they set about searching the property from top to bottom, for _anything_ that could possibly lead them to Jane and Lisbon. Van Pelt and Rigsby discovered that the dining, kitchen and bedrooms contained nothing of any value, though Cho, in the study, had better luck.

The room was relatively small, but a remarkable amount of furniture had been crammed into the limited space. A large wooden desk sat opposite the doorway, almost invisible behind an avalanche of papers, folders and note books. To the right was a huge metal filing cabinet, and the left a smaller desk that held a printer, photocopier and more papers. Turning back to the main desk, Cho could just make out a computer screen beneath the mass of white. He cleared the area, throwing the piles of white haphazardly to the floor, then pressed the large 'on' button.

As the screen lit up, Rigsby and Van Pelt joined him. The three crowded around the monitor, clicking through file after file for something that could assist them in their search. It took close to an hour, selecting a seemingly endless number of folders and documents, and scanning them for any information that could possibly be useful.

"There's nothing here," Van Pelt sighed in despair and frustration. They'd been relying on Jane's quick, uninformative message to lead them to him, though the clues that would lead them there seemed more and more impossible to discover.

"Maybe LaRoche isn't behind this. Perhaps Jane meant something," Rigsby suggested, though he was really hoping this was true rather than actually _believing _it. After all, what other plausible explanation was there for the seven capital letters typed on the screen of Jane's phone?

"Wait guys, there's something here," Cho exclaimed. He had checked the desktops trash folder, and discovered files its owner must have presumed were deleted completely, but where still lingering. There were a handful of documents inside, though the one simply labelled 'Document 1' was the only one that stood out.

As he double clicked, they held their breath, praying for anything even vaguely helpful.

"What is it?" Van Pelt asked when the page finally opened, confused to say the least. The screen was filled with numbers and letters combined together into incomprehensible 'words' and 'sentences', if you could call them that.

"It must be some sort of code," Cho realised. He wished Jane were present, knowing he would probably be able to decode it far quicker than they were capable of. Even with the three of them working together, there was still a chance they'd never decode it.

They stared at the characters before them, trying every possible formation they could think of, starting with the simplest of codes. As they gradually made their way through combination after combination, the solution remaining just out of their reach, the faint padding of footsteps outside startled them into abrupt action. Their concentration had been so focussed on the task before them that they had completely lost track of how long they'd been in LaRoche's house. It had to be close to three hours.

"We have to get out of here," Van Pelt gasped, hurrying towards the door, mentally scolding herself for being so negligent on a task so basic and blatantly obvious as keeping track of the time. She turned back in surprise when neither of the guys followed.

"We can't just leave this here, LaRoche could delete it and then we'll be back to square one," Rigsby pointed out in a whisper as the creaking sound of the front door swinging open reached their ears. Cho pressed the print button quickly, though the whirr of the machine was much louder than they'd expected, and they cringed, hoping LaRoche wouldn't hear.

"So? We'll just arrest him, then he won't be able to delete _any_ evidence, and he can tell us personally where Jane and Lisbon are," Van Pelt suggested logically. She turned to the boys for agreement, though they were unresponsive, too focused on something just to the right of her head to answer.

"You could do that," came a voice from behind her. She started in shock, turning around slowly. There stood LaRoche, gun drawn and resting inches from her head. Rigsby drew his own weapon automatically, moving to raise it, but hesitating.

"Rigsby, put the gun down. Cho, you too, or she dies," LaRoche ordered, pulling Van Pelt's gun from its holster and shoving it in his pocket. He then grabbed Van Pelt's shoulder tightly, pressing the gun against her temple threateningly to relay a menacing message; he wasn't afraid to shoot.

"What have you done with Jane and Lisbon?" she asked angrily through clenched teeth, attempting bravery but failing miserably, a slight waver in her voice detectable.

"Oh, they're fine, never mind about them," he replied offhandedly. "You're the one with a gun to your head," he pointed out, pushing it hard against the skin of her temple to emphasise the point. She shivered at the coolness of the metal, and the thought of just how close the bullet was to her brain. One wrong move and she knew she would be instantly dead.

Without speaking he began to drag Van Pelt down the hall, motioning Rigsby and Cho to follow. Despite the advantage they had with his back turned, neither even considered defying his orders, knowing full well this would undoubtedly result in Van Pelt's death. So they followed obediently.

"How'd he find us so quickly?" Rigsby whispered to Cho as they made their way down a small passageway, LaRoche about a metre in front. The study was at the very back of the house, and he had thought they'd have several minutes minimum before they were discovered. And that was only if LaRoche happened to need the computer, which was unlikely, given he had never seemed particularly savvy when it came to technology of any kind.

"You idiots left the front door open," LaRoche clarified with a smirk, overhearing his words.

A frown crossed Rigsby's face as he tried to remember whether this was in fact true. He had been sure he'd closed it, remembered the cool knob turning in the palm of his hand, though now that he began to question it, he wasn't quite as certain. He glanced at Cho, who seemed equally unsure.

"What was that?" Van Pelt asked, starting slightly, turning her head to look behind as best she could with a gun pressed up against it.

"What?" LaRoche ordered, suddenly much angrier, though a tinge of anxiety was also detectable in his voice. He looked over his shoulder, left then right then left again, trying to detect the source of the noise only Van Pelt had picked up. Cho and Rigsby searched too, though neither had heard anything.

After he'd determined almost a minute later that the area was clear, LaRoche continued towards the glass back door without speaking. Moments later, another noise came from behind them, this time loud enough for them all to hear.

"What the hell?" LaRoche muttered under his breath, though Rigsby couldn't help but notice a slight nervous tension in his eyes, which confused him. Why was he suddenly so jumpy? The unidentifiable noise could be anything, a stray cat, a bird even. There was something else playing at LaRoche's nerves, but exactly _what, _Rigsby couldn't comprehend.

It was just seconds later when the ear piercing gunshot rang out across the room, startling them all into complete, still silence. LaRoche didn't even have time to register the sound before he crashed to the floor, the bullet having sailed clean through his forehead.

Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt threw themselves to the floor for fear of more bullets, though when none came, Cho raised his head in time to see a figure clad in black sprinting out the back door.

"Stop! CBI!" he yelled, alerting Rigsby and Van Pelt to the hidden gunman. All three retrieved their weapons from LaRoche's unmoving corpse, hurrying out the still swinging glass door. They were too late, however, and only just caught a glimpse of the balaclava covered head through the windscreen of a van that moved so fast they couldn't even catch a make or model, let alone a number plate, as it sped off into the darkness.

They stood together on the lawn, completely stunned. Everything had happened so fast. Now LaRoche was dead, and his killer could be anywhere by now. And their chances of finding Lisbon and Jane were becoming slimmer and slimmer by the second, with possibly the only person aware of their current location lying cold and unbreathing, blood dripping from the gaping hole in his head.

"So that's why the door was open," Rigsby thought aloud once they'd recovered from shock, "I was certain I'd closed it behind me."

"Wait, the document," Cho realised, and he sprinted inside, followed close behind by Rigsby and Van Pelt. When they reached the study doorway he was standing in front of the printer, completely motionless.

"The printed sheet isn't here, he must have taken it," he cried, his usually dead-pan face displaying emotions of despair so uncharacteristic they terrified his companions. He waved the mouse beside him hopefully, and the computer screen lit up suddenly.

"Wait, where are all the files and programs?" Van Pelt asked, surprised as she peered over his shoulder. The screen was completely blank but for the blue background. Any little hope they still had drained instantly.

"He must have deleted the entire contents of the computer to make sure we didn't get any information on Red John. LaRoche's killer must have been working for him," Rigsby said. It was clear this man was chosen specifically for the task he'd just executed, given the skills needed to wipe a computer permanently of all information wasn't the simplest of tasks.

"This is getting ridiculous," Van Pelt cried, sounding exasperated. The two guys looked at her with concerned interest, and she continued. "Darcy, and now LaRoche working for Red John? Not to mention all the other people over the years. He was actually in the CBI himself for god sakes. He seems to have followers everywhere, there's no one we can completely trust but each other."

It took Rigsby and Cho a moment to comprehend her words, and their initial reaction was to presume she was simply being paranoid. But the more they thought about it, the more they realised her words were not far from the truth. If Red John could get followers in such secure agencies as the FBI and CBI, he could get them anywhere. There really was _no one_ they could trust entirely.

* * *

Lisbon awoke slowly, gradually becoming aware of her own body. She ached all over from the discomfort of sleeping upright against hard concrete, and her head felt light and dazed. Her eyes fluttered open moments later, and she took in her surroundings. For a moment she was completely disoriented, unsure of where she was. But as her eyes gradually adjusted to the minimal light, it all came rushing back to her, so fast it was almost overwhelming. She was suddenly aware of Jane, lying close by, still sleeping. Moving towards him stiffly, given her uncomfortable sleeping conditions, she re-examined his injured leg. It still looked incredibly painful, though the brace she had crafted seemed to be doing a reasonable job of keeping it immobile. To be honest she was relieved to simply see his chest was still moving up and down evenly, breathing, alive.

Deciding to let him rest a while longer, she pulled herself upright with all the effort she could muster, steadying herself with the wall, then moving carefully across the room to crates she had discovered the night before. Well, she presumed it had been the night before, and that it was now morning, since in reality she had absolutely no way of confirming what the time in fact was. There she found the food she had noticed, pulling some sort of packaged biscuits from the pile.

Returning to Jane's side, she opened the packet, finally relieving her hunger at least slightly. She was tempted to devour the entire packet instantly, though knew this would be unwise. After all, there was no way of predicting how long they would remain locked in this cellar, and rationing their limited food would be the only way to make sure it lasted long enough to keep them alive. It was only then, the salty flavouring brushing harshly against her dry lips, that she realised how parched she was. She dragged herself up once again, this time towards the sink across from her. It was badly rusted, though she had no other alternative than to drink from it. She turned the handle hard, struggling with it for a moment before a small trickle of water dripped into the basin. She cupped her hands beneath the minimal flow, then lifted them to her lips, smiling at the soothing sensation the liquid brought to her aching throat.

Once she turned the tap off again, she heard Jane groaning into consciousness, awakened by the creaking sounds of barely used pipes awakening from years of hibernation. Hurrying towards him, she put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Stay still Jane, your leg," she reminded him as his eyes opened. He blinked furiously to clear his vision, looked around, confused, until remembering, as she had done, where they were. The orange light was still on, though it seemed even dimmer than the previous day. She assisted him into a more comfortable, upright position against the wall, though even this was a challenge, and he couldn't help but wince in pain.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, clearly concerned. He seemed somewhat dazed, and was clearly in agony. She suspected his leg was broken seriously, and in more than one place, and she guessed he'd hit his head as he fell, though luckily not enough to cause any serious head trauma. His arms were riddled with bruises, and she suspected his torso had suffered similar injuries in the fall, which was likely a drop of a few metres or more.

"Okay," he replied with a small attempt at an unconcerned smile, though she wasn't fooled. His eyes gave him away easily, since they lacked their typically cheeky glint, instead seeming blank and hollow.

She handed him the half eaten packet of biscuits and set about searching the room for some sort of makeshift cup, since there was no way he'd be able to make it over to the sink. She found an old can which she rinsed out and then filled with water.

He gulped it greedily when she held it to his lips, being careful to avoid the sharp metal grooves, and he smiled weakly in thanks. They sat in silence for a while, just thinking, before they began to voice these thoughts.

"We need to find a way out of here, you need proper medical attention," Lisbon said desperately. "That cast might be okay temporarily, but if the bones of your legs aren't lined up properly they could heal badly and cause infection."

"I should be okay," he reassured her. "Besides, this entire place is made of concrete. The only way out is back through that trap door. How do you suggest we escape?"

"Do you think LaRoche is still up there?" she asked.

"I doubt it. He needs to continue working as usual, otherwise people could become suspicious. He would have probably gone home not long after locking us in here, though I'd guess he'll return some time today to check on us."

"Hopefully the team found the message you left them, and understood it," Lisbon noted optimistically.

"Even if they did find it and understood it, they might not be able to find anything that leads them here. But it's a start at least."

Lisbon rose to her feet, pulling herself slowly and carefully up the ladder towards the door they'd come down the day prior. She knocked on it, the wood sounding thick and hard. It would be difficult to break through, even if they were both perfectly strong and healthy. With Jane's leg and nothing to eat but biscuits and possibly contaminated water, she doubted they'd have even the slightest chance of escaping successfully without assistance. And assistance was unlikely to find them in this remote, hidden cellar.

* * *

Van Pelt, Cho and Rigsby had returned home for some much needed sleep, though their minds where so active with worry and recollections of the day that any sleep they actually got was minimal. They had decided against alerting the authorities to the events at LaRoche's house, despite the obvious risks, since this would bring with it endless questions from Bertram and his superiors, any of whom could be working for Red John. After all, Red John might not be aware of the message Jane had sent them, and the fact they knew LaRoche had kidnapped Jane and Lisbon. Whilst this was a small advantage, it was an advantage nonetheless, and they were unwilling to give it up. So they had decided to confide in only each other.

The three remaining members of the Serious Crimes Unit met up at a local café early the next day, eager to return to their search for Jane and Lisbon. It was here they discussed the current situation, and their limited plans. They had all agreed already not to mention what was happening to _anyone, _just to be sure, not even their families.

"We need to find where LaRoche locked them up, but how?" Van Pelt began, identifying the major hurdle they currently faced. With LaRoche dead they didn't even know if anyone else _knew_ the location, which would make the task much more difficult.

"Well, presuming LaRoche was acting on Red John's orders, Red john must know where they are," Rigsby said, though this was far from reassuring. Red John was the main person they were hoping _didn't _know where their friends were being held.

"We should look at any remote, abandoned properties in the general area. They must be somewhere far from people, otherwise someone would have noticed by now," Van Pelt noted, pulling out her laptop and placing it on the table.

"But there must be dozens, and we don't even know if they're _in_ the general area. They could be miles away," Rigsby exclaimed. The concern and lack of useful information was creating a tension between them, and sheer desperation was beginning to set in. The possibility that Red John knew where Jane and Lisbon were also brought the possibility he had already got to them, a concern none of them wanted to voice, but all where thinking. If this was true they were relying on his trend so far of keeping Jane alive, though Lisbon was another story altogether. After all, it was her head he had asked for to confirm Jane's loyalty, so he clearly didn't mind the thought of killing her.

"You're right, there are heaps, but some seem more plausible than others," Van Pelt told him as the search results appeared on her screen. "There are a small number of cabin-like buildings in remote locations that seem like our best bet. After all, if it really was LaRoche who took them, he had time to drive them there and return to his house, so it can't be too far away. I think we should try them first."

'Well we'd better get going then," Cho announced, leading the way towards the black SUV.

* * *

A couple of tables down, a man whose face was completely obscured by a large newspaper also left his seat and headed to his car, smirking at the conversation he had just overheard. His two prisoners were about to become five.

And that was where the fun would _really_ begin.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks to everyone whose been reading this :) I hope you all like this chapter, please review if you do!**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own the Mentalist**

* * *

_**Chapter 7**_

According to Lisbon's predictions, influenced mostly by her fairly accurate body clock, it was approximately midday, and Jane was steadily beginning to improve. His leg was still causing him immense pain, but he'd been able to hobble to the other side of the room - with a little assistance - to drink from the sink and use the bathroom. Whilst this reassured her, she doubted this good omen would last for long, given they had no way of knowing how long they'd be trapped in this dimly lit cellar. As time went on, his leg would probably become more painful from lack of proper medical treatment, possibly even infected, not to mention their diet of biscuits was far from nutritional. She was just hoping neither one of them became ill; otherwise they could be in serious trouble.

"It's surprising LaRoche hasn't come to check on us yet," Jane noted from his new position on the tattered mattress, whose soft surface was much gentler on his injuries than the hard concrete floor. He was propping his head up slightly with his arm, the rest of his body lying flat so as not to put too much pressure on his leg.

"Maybe he won't. I mean, it's not like we have any chance of escaping, this place is far to secure," Lisbon suggested.

"I doubt he'd just leave us here to starve," Jane disagreed after a moments thought. "If he really is working for Red John, which seems likely given the events of the past few days and the circumstances of our abduction, I think he'll come back for us sooner or later. After all, Red John's shown no interest in disposing of me as of yet. He saved my life remember. I think he wants to keep me alive, even if it _is _just to prolong my suffering."

Lisbon pondered this far from optimistic thought, reassured only by his certainty that he would not be killed. Her own life, on the other hand, might be a different story. Red John had no need for _her _alive.

"Besides, even if he doesn't come back, there's still the faint possibility that Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho might rescue us," he added as an afterthought, though again he was lacking optimism.

"True," she nodded thoughtfully, though the doubt was clear in her eyes. She certainly had faith in the abilities of her team, though she guessed the evidence left behind by LaRoche on their makeshift prison, if any, would be minimal and virtually impossible to locate.

She was beginning to feel the sort of restless sensation that always overwhelmed her when situations became completely out of her control. It was the same feeling that took over her normally calm and collected demeanour every time a member of their team was in danger - usually Jane, of course, such as the numerous occasions over the years that he had been kidnapped. Whilst this had happened many times over the years, she would never become accustomed to the feeling. She_ had_ to do something,_ anything_, that might have even the slightest chance of assisting in their release.

She stood up suddenly, receiving a curious eyebrow raise from Jane as she moved towards the crates. It had suddenly occurred to her that if the wooden board she had used to brace Jane's leg had been loose, it stood to reason that there would be others she could remove without too much difficulty. Sure enough, on closer examination, she found a loose nail on the far side of one of the crates, previously obscured by the shadows of the wall. She heaved, managing to pry the piece of wood from its position.

"What _are_ you doing?" Jane asked, finally giving in to curiosity.

"I thought I could try to loosen the trapdoor with this plank of wood," she explained. "It's not too heavy, and if I wedged it between the roof and the edges of the door, it might loosen, or even open."

"Good plan," he said with a nod, impressed with her logic. He wished he could help her somehow, though given his current almost immobile state he doubted he could even stand without her assisting arm to prevent him from falling, let alone actually be able to _help_ her.

Luckily to wooden plank wasn't too thick, and therefore not too heavy, so Lisbon managed to carry it over to the ladder relatively easily. However, climbing the ladder was a far more challenging feat, and it took her a number of attempts to make it all the way up without sending the thing crashing to the floor. Whist Jane_ felt_ useless, it was in fact his constant suggestions and encouragement that eventually led her to the partial success of reaching the topmost rung of the ladder.

"Yes, go Lisbon! I knew you could do it," he smiled from his mattress. She returned the smile, though wearily, her forehead glittering with sweat in the limited light. She was amazed at how quickly they both had begun to loose their strength, though obviously the nutrients in their sole food source - biscuits - were few.

After the short victory break, it was back to business. She positioned the plank at the gap between the door and the ceiling, and heaved. This was a difficult task in itself, made far more precarious since she was balanced on top of a particularly tall ladder. Jane found himself holding his breath, knowing full well the pain of falling from that very same height.

She used up all her remaining strength trying to pry the door open, though after what felt like close to an hour she had to accept defeat. Having done little more than loosen the thick wooden door, she let the plank fall to the ground before climbing back down the ladder slowly.

"It's okay Lisbon, you did the best you could," Jane reassured her, noticing the defeated look on her face. She met his gaze, tears filling her green eyes.

"I'm sorry," was all she said, kneeling down beside him, her head in her hands. She felt like she had failed him, failed both of them, and now if they died down here it would be her fault.

"Lisbon, it's okay. Everything's going to be okay," he comforted, pulling her into an embrace. They remained like that for a while, her crying into his shoulder. It was disconcerting for him to see her in such a mess. She was normally the logical one, rarely letting her emotions get the better of her. However the past few days had simply been too much, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by all the worry, fear, pain and sheer terror of the past few days.

"We're going to get out of this, I'm sure of it," he told her as she wiped at her tear-stained face.

"Okay," she managed to gulp with a nod, though a few persistent tears still trickled down her cheeks. .

* * *

Rigsby had been driving for about an hour and had devoured two Big Macs along with a thick shake when they finally reached their first destination. At first Van Pelt couldn't understand how he could possibly consume so much food at a time like this. She had barely eaten anything since Lisbon and Jane had disappeared. Though she had begun to realise that, as well as his enjoyment of food, eating comforted him, just as she was reassured somewhat by music, and Cho reading. Each provided them with a distraction from reality, something that seemed necessary at this point in time.

He pulled up, wheels crunching on a gravel track that led to the small, remote property. It was completely surrounded by large, overhanging trees along with overgrown grass and weeds.

All three exited the vehicle cautiously, flak jackets already on, guns at the ready. After the last time, they weren't going to let their defences down for even a single second. After all, that was all it took.

They waded through the almost knee-high grass and up the rickety wooden steps to the front door, which seemed equally unstable. Cho barely needed to touch the door, it was already swinging open in the slight breeze, and they entered the building one by one.

It took very little time for them to establish this particular property hadn't been visited in a number of years, possibly decades. The few pieces of furniture that were present seemed ancient, covered with leaves and dust. Rigsby even found a squirrel nestled inside an old couch, so badly worn that one of its rusted springs was hanging out the side.

The floor was covered entirely in dust, and they left footprints almost as thick as if they'd been walking through snow as they inspected the room. This seemed like proof enough that Jane and Lisbon were certainly _not _here, since their prints were the only ones detectable, and such a massive build up of dust couldn't happen in a couple of days.

Together they trumped back to the car, still on high alert, taking their seats and beginning their drive to the next property.

* * *

Lisbon had drifted slowly off to sleep beside him, exhausted by emotions and the sheer physical effort needed to climb that ladder with a massive chunk of wood in her arms. He admired her for such persistence and determination, though wished she wouldn't be so hard on herself.

Whilst she blamed herself for the unsuccessful escape, he placed the blame on himself for the entire situation they were currently facing. After all, Red John's interest in the team stemmed predominately from his own revenge mission, and the fact that Lisbon was trapped beside him was because of this. If anything happened to her, or any of the other members of the team, he would never forgive himself.

They had all suffered for him, and never once said a word. Prior to this very moment he hadn't considered them to be in any real danger. After all, Red John kept him alive, why would he spare them also. But he was coming to realise that the danger they placed themselves in was more serious than just the possibility of becoming collateral damage. After all, they were the only close friends, the only family he had left. And if Red John wanted to renew the suffering and grief and self-hatred he had felt every day since his family's death, what easier way to do it that destroying the only family he had left. The team.

He heaved himself first into a sitting, and then gradually to a standing position, biting his tongue until it bled to prevent himself from screaming out and waking Lisbon. His head felt slightly hot, though he ignored it, presuming this was simply from his sudden movement. He hopped, half dragging his injured leg as he moved towards the ladder and abandoned wooden board. He knew it was stupidity, Lisbon with the unhindered use of all her limbs hadn't been able to achieve it, and yet somehow he felt compelled to at least try.

He rested the plank against the ladder, using both hands to hoist himself up onto the first rung. His head still felt hot, and this heat was beginning to spread throughout his body, though he pushed the sensation from his mind. He had more pressing things to worry about. Resting his weight on his good leg, he steadied himself, then pulled himself up to the next rung. Two down, only about fifteen more to go.

He had only reached the fifth rung when Lisbon awoke. It took her a moment to register his absence, and then another to locate him, though when she did it was clear by the horrified gasped that echoed throughout the room.

"Jane, what are you doing? Get down from there! You could kill yourself!"

He couldn't help but agree, though he had needed to at least try to contribute. Damn his stupid leg, and his big mouth that had got it injured in the first place. He had felt so useless, so unnecessary, as Lisbon tried so hard to free them and he just lay comfortably.

With her assistance he complied, returned in defeat to the mattress on the floor. Once he was seated once again, she re-examined his injury.

"What were you thinking?" she rambled on and on as she inspected the cast. "You can barely walk, let alone climb ladders. If you fell you could have hit your head. You could have died."

He didn't even try to justify his actions, simply laying his head on the soft mattress and closing his eyes. After she'd double checked about ten times that his leg really was okay, she noticed just how flushed he was, even considering the sudden burst of activity.

"Jane, are you feeling okay?" she asked, unconsciously allowing the worry to creep into her voice as she rested the back of her hand against his forehead. It was burning hot.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just kinda hot is all," he replied, though his words were suddenly seeming slightly slurred. Given Lisbon was freezing in the cool concrete room, there was little doubt in her mind that he had a fever. And since they'd consumed the exact same food and water, plus were confined in such a small area, she guessed it wouldn't be much longer before she too was burning up.

* * *

"It's just a couple of kilometres further, down this track," Van Pelt told him whilst examining the map that filled the laptop's screen. The car jerked against the gravely surface riddled with potholes until they finally caught a glimpse of the second deserted shack on their list. It too was hidden deep within a forested area, though was in pretty good condition compared to their previous stop.

"I think someone's in there," Rigsby noted as they continued closer, coming to a stop at last. A red four door station wagon was parked beside the building, and the faint yellow glow of lights was just detectable behind drawn curtains of navy blue.

"I doubt Jane and Lisbon are in there, but we should check just to be certain," Cho suggested, receiving nods of agreement from his two colleagues. They couldn't leave without being sure, since the repercussions could be dire were they to mistakenly assume anything.

Bulletproof vest on once again, just in case, Rigsby knocked three times, and they listened intently. Cho had his gun by his side, unthreatening but easily accessible were it needed.

They heard chairs drag across the ground, voices and then footsteps, before the door was opened. A couple, maybe mid thirties, greeted them with confused but inviting smiles.

"Hello? Can we help you?" the woman asked, fiddling with the tips of her mousy brown hair nervously.

"Hi, I'm Agent Van Pelt with the California Bureau of Investigation, and these are my colleagues Agents Rigsby and Cho," she began, holding her badge before them. "We just need to have a quick look around. Routine inspection, shouldn't take long." She figured the lie would be quicker and safer than the truth.

The couple complied without further questions, stepping aside to allow the agents inside. A small bulb attached to the centre of the ceiling lit up the room, though it seemed the only electricity in the simplistic building. There was a sofa in the middle of the room, a small dining table off to the side, and a crackling, inviting fireplace. A pile of thick novels rested atop the table, and hiking equipment was staked neatly against a wall. The room appeared the typical peaceful, remote couples retreat.

Rigsby checked the only two adjoining rooms, a small, basic bathroom and a sort of storage room, which was filled predominantly with cleaning supplies.

They thanked the couple politely once the room had been searched from top to bottom, trying their very best to hide the disappointment they felt. It was late afternoon, and still they had progressed no further in their search for Jane and Lisbon than to eliminate two locations. Whilst this was actually progress to some extent, it felt to them nothing but a waste of precious time.

Trudging back to the SUV feeling somewhat disheartened, Rigsby started the engine, and they were off once again.

* * *

About a kilometre away, obscured completely from view by a particularly large overhanging tree, another car was parked, its driver watching the three agents intently. He smirked, enjoying their unsuccessful search whilst he himself was well aware of the location they sought. It was, frankly, thoroughly entertaining.

* * *

**A/N: Please please review! It only takes a minute :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I just want to say a massive thankyou to everyone whose been reading this fic, especially those who've reviewed. I'd love to hear your thoughts - so please review! **

**Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own the Mentalist :(**

* * *

_**Chapter 8**_

As Jane lay, moaning incoherently in his restless sleep, Lisbon paced the room, deep in thought. She had come to the conclusion that it had been the water that had caused his current feverish state, given that the biscuits were completely sealed and clearly not tampered with in any way. Apart from being slightly stale, there hadn't seemed to be anything wrong with their appearance or taste.

Thankfully Jane hadn't worsened significantly, merely slept fitfully for the majority of the day. However, just as she had predicted, by sundown - presumably - she was beginning to show the first signs of illness. Her head was warm to touch, and a headache that had presented itself a number of hours earlier now had been worsening gradually as the day wore on. It was currently bearable, though she doubted this would still be the case when morning finally arrived.

She decided not to dwell on the negativities of their situation, but instead act whilst she was still well enough to do so.

Earlier she had gathered all her waning strength in order to shift Jane - and the mattress he slept upon - closer to the sink and crates, figuring the closer they were to their limited supplies the more accessible they would be once the fever had well and truly set in.

Now, using this same principle, she tore through the silky fabric of her trousers just below the knee, creating a number of strips of material. She shivered with the sudden touch of cool concrete against her now bare lower legs, though proceeded anyway, rising to her feet and making her way over to the sink where she twisted the stiff tap, soaking each band in the sink with cold water.

Returning to Jane's side once again, she knelt down, placing one of these moisture filled strips across his forehead. It was a meek attempt to fend off the fever, though it was the only one available to her at that moment, given the circumstances. The sudden coolness on his brow promptly awakened Jane from his agitated slumber, and he blinked up at her, confused for a moment before he was reminded suddenly and unpleasantly of where they were.

"Lisbon," he mumbled, his face still flushed red despite the soothing cool fabric. She pushed the worried emotions from her face, even though she knew full well that he of all people would still be able to detect them.

"Hey Jane," she replied, with her best attempt at a reassuring smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible. I never get sick," he moped, though his typical cheeky glint was just detectable in his uncharacteristically dull eyes. She smirked at his light-hearted complaint, though it was strained, more out of habit than actually genuine. His comments were clearly meant to relax her, and they _did _succeed, however slightly.

"You should go back to sleep, rest might make you feel better," she said, more hopeful than confident. He obeyed, closed his eyes again without complaint, and was dozing again within seconds.

She regretted her words as soon as he was asleep once more. Now she was alone again, not literally of course, but without him to talk to, to reassure her in his annoying yet charmingly playful manner, she may as well have been. Their situation was really beginning to scare her, not that she hadn't been scared when they had been first kidnapped, but she had assumed there was some kind of purpose behind it all. At the very least she had expected someone to check in on them - LaRoche, or Red John or _someone. _

Heaving herself onto her feet once more, she walked over to the crates. She simply looked at them for a moment, too lost in her thoughts to do anything. The horrible realisation that they could die in here was becoming more and more probable, and she just couldn't wipe it from her thoughts. It sent a shiver down her spine, imagining the two of them succumbing to illness or starvation or dehydration - whichever came first - their bodies rotting away down here for god knows how long. There was still the one tiny sliver of hope; that Rigsby, Van Pelt and Cho would find them, though she was beginning to wonder whether this hope was merely hopeful desperation in disguise. She knew they were capable as long as they had enough information, though whether they actual _did_ was another story entirely.

But regardless, the uselessness she felt, locked up in an underground jail with her survival placed completely in the hands of others was eating away at her. There was literally nothing she could do but keep herself and Jane alive. She hated not being in control, and naturally detested the current helplessness she felt now, locked away to die.

Once her consciousness returned to reality, she dug her hands deep into the crates filled with packaged biscuits, pulling out an armful of the only food accessible to them. She then walked a couple of steps and dropped them beside Jane's mattress. She repeated this a further three times, and only then was satisfied that, were they both to become so ill neither could stand, they at least wouldn't starve to death for a number of weeks.

This final practical task completed, the feelings of helpless and uselessness returned. There was literally nothing else she could do, so admitting defeat she lowered herself slowly to lay on the small stretch of mattress not taken up by a certain 5 foot 10 blonde consultant. There she allowed her exhaustion to plunge her into the dark abyss of sleep and away from the overwhelming emotions of powerless desperation.

* * *

The three agents were jolted around inside the SUV as they drove - or rather, bumped - across a seemingly endless expanse of gravel. It would take another entire hour to reach their next abandoned building, and with evening turning rapidly to night, the sky would likely be pitch black by the time they arrived at their third destination.

They were all exhausted, the almost constant driving draining them of their strength, not to mention the lack of a decent meal since that morning. Being out in the middle of nowhere there were no restaurants or fast food joints for miles, so they were left only with the donuts, crisps and various other snacks to keep themselves nourished. It was only the thought of Jane and Lisbon trapped somewhere, possibly seriously injured, undoubtedly in grave danger, that motivated them to continue on adrenalin and sugar alone.

Rigsby concentrated solely on the road ahead, unwilling to allow anything to distract him from his task. Whilst he could be playful and childish on occasion, at times like this he became incredibly focused, knowing full well this focus could be the difference between finding Jane and Lisbon in time, and being too late.

Beside him, in the passenger seat, Van Pelt was resting her head back against the seat, eyes closed, though not actually asleep. Her mind was too filled with concern to relax enough for sleep, endless worry-filled thoughts swirling about her head. Her laptop was closed by her side, useless now since they were far out of internet range. She had saved the map of their route on the desktop, just in case, though since there was only one continuous road between them and their next stop, it wasn't really necessary. Instead she was left to sit in silence, praying for the safety of her two friends.

Cho sat directly behind Van Pelt, gazing out the window. His expression remained deadpan, though in reality he was just as concerned for Jane and Lisbon as his fellow colleagues. Red John was a powerful enemy, and would be perfectly capable of just about anything. He just hoped they'd be able to find Jane and Lisbon before Red John had time to act.

The wheels of their vehicle continued to crunch against the path they followed as Rigsby drove as fast as he possibly could on such terrain. Above them, the sky continued to darken, until only the headlights and the dim glow of the moon lit up their surroundings.

* * *

"How much further?" Van Pelt moaned a while later, half asleep and desperate to finally reach their destination.

"We're nearly there," Rigsby replied, unable to hide his apprehension. If Jane and Lisbon weren't at this next deserted shack, they would have to stop for the night. All three were completely exhausted from the long day of searching, and even now Rigsby was struggling to keep his eyes open. However, this rest time could mean the difference between finding their boss and consultant live and well, or… not. He couldn't even bring himself to _think _about the alternative.

Sure enough, less than ten minutes later they pulled up amongst a cluster of trees to a small, dilapidated wooden building. Rigsby twisted the key in the ignition, causing the hum of the car's engine to die down, then the agents exited. Their tiredness was beginning to cloud their normally cautious judgement, so bulletproof vests were overlooked as they walked up to the old wooden door.

Guns drawn, Cho knocked loudly, then tried the doorknob, only to discover it was locked. They waited only a few seconds for a reply and then, too eager to delay any further, Rigsby slammed his shoulder against the door. With such old, rusted hinges the door creaked open with ease, and they filed into the cabin.

They entered, floorboards creaking beneath their shoes, flashlights at the ready, though Van Pelt promptly discovered a light switch. Flicking it on, the small dwelling was suddenly illuminated in a soft orange glow. It surprised them that electricity was even available this far out, though they were grateful for it, given it was far better at lighting up their surroundings than the limited beam of their torch.

The first room they passed was a small kitchen, containing the basic necessities only. There was a small sink, a kettle and an ancient microwave, as well as cupboards filled with plates, bowls and cutlery. It was all very tidy, though the layer of dust across the counter suggested it hadn't been used in a long time.

Adjoining the kitchen was a sort of dining room, though it contained only a small table and four handcrafted wooden chairs. The wall opposite them held a large-scale painting of several horses running across a lush green paddock, though the colours were beginning to fade as a result of years of sunlight streaming in from the window opposite. This room, too, looked as though it hadn't been used any time recently.

"There's nobody here," Rigsby sighed. "Look at all this dust, I doubt anyone's been here in years."

"Maybe that's just what Red John wants us to think," Van Pelt pointed out. "He's smart; it could just be some sort of trick. We should search it from top to bottom before we jump to any conclusions."

There were nods of agreement all around and they promptly moved onto the next room. It was much larger than the pervious two, a lounge room with an old TV sitting atop a wooden cabinet. Opposite this was a well-worn brown leather couch filled with comfortable cushions of all different colours, and between the two was a red patterned rug. The only other room in the cabin held a toilet and basin.

"That's it. They're not here. There are no more rooms to search," Van Pelt announced, crestfallen. It was becoming less and less likely that they would find Jane and Lisbon unharmed, given the amount of time they'd now been missing.

She began walking back towards the front door, tears brimming in her eyes, followed close behind by Rigsby, when Cho called them back.

"Hey guys, take a look at this," he said, pointing towards the floorboards. Years of grim and grit had built up over the years around the rug, though there was a section that was completely spotless. He had just noticed it out of the corner of his eye, though its significance was reassuring.

"That rug's been moved recently," Rigsby realised with a gasp. He hurriedly crouched down, rolling the rug up and out of the way so that the floor beneath was completely visible.

"A trap door!" Van Pelt exclaimed with relief. "Jane and Lisbon _must_ be down there," she realised, a faint light just detectable through the cracks between the door and actual flooring. A light was definitely on down there.

Cho reached for the handle, pulling with all his strength, though the door was locked. He stared for a moment at the tiny keyhole, then straightened up once again.

"Can anyone here pick locks?" he asked, wishing Jane were here with them rather than trapped below. He'd have had the door open in an instant.

"I guess I could try," Rigsby shrugged. "I've seen Jane do it heaps, it can't be that hard. Do either of you have a paperclip?"

"I think there might be one in the car, holding some of the notes together. I'll go and check," Van Pelt said.

Her heeled boots against the floorboards echoed loudly throughout the silent building as she hurried towards the door. Outside it was even darker than when they'd arrived, and she needed her flashlight to find the black SUV camouflaged against the darkness. Unlocking the back door, she reached inside and pulled out the few notes they had brought with them - mainly possible addresses - and was relieved to discover that they were indeed held together by a single paperclip.

She locked the car again, and headed back inside, though she paused in the doorway when the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs startled her. She whipped her head around quickly, gun raised, scanning the endless rows of trees that surrounded the cabin. When a full minute passed with no further suspicious noises, she relaxed once more, presuming it was merely a squirrel or bird or some other wild animal.

Back in the lounge room, she handed the paperclip to Rigsby, who bent it out to form one long piece of wire. Kneeling down, he inserted it into the keyhole, wiggling it about and hoping for success. He held his breath, wishing for a faint click.

In any other circumstance Cho would have been teasing him by this point, amused at his useless attempt. Instead he too was holding his breath, desperate for Rigsby to get lucky somehow.

"I don't think this is gonna work," Rigsby said sceptically a couple of minutes later.

"Just keep trying," Van Pelt begged. They were so close, and yet their friends remained just out of reach. They simply couldn't give up when they were separated only by a plank of wood.

"Okay," he agreed, and seconds later that faint click they were all hoping for sounded, just like music to their ears.

"Oh, thank god," Van Pelt gasped, flinging her arms around Rigsby in relief.

They wasted no time, Cho and Rigsby both clasping the handle together, heaving, until the thick door opened to reveal the underground room below.

"Jane? Lisbon?" Cho called down, noticing the two figures on the far side of the room. He hurried down the ladder, skipping every second rung in his haste, Rigsby and Van Pelt right behind.

He reached the pair, both squashed together on a dirty old mattress. Immediately he could tell Jane was injured from the makeshift splint, and he didn't look well either. Lisbon seemed in better shape, though certainly far from 100 per cent.

"Cho? Is that you," she mumbled almost incoherently, her eyelids opening slightly.

"Yeah, it's me. Are you okay?" he asked, clearly concerned. Van Pelt and Rigsby were now also by her side, eyes wide with worry.

"Jane's leg's broken, and he's sick. I think it's the water," she murmured, though it was obvious to them she was ill as well. Her face was flushed, wet with sweat, and she could barely speak from exhaustion.

"It's okay, we'll get you out of here," Van Pelt reassured her with an encouraging smile, which Lisbon returned faintly before closing her eyes once again.

Van Pelt then moved around to the other side of the mattress, shaking Jane's shoulder lightly in the hope he'd awaken. To her relief his eyes fluttered open, though he was clearly in an even worse condition than Lisbon.

"Hey Jane, it's Van Pelt," she told him soothingly, and was greeted by a half-hearted smile.

"Hey," he croaked back.

"How are we going to get them out of here?" Rigsby wondered aloud, gazing back at the tall ladder that was their only exit. It was only then that he notice the silhouetted figure on the floor above, peering down through the opening. His face was obscured by a strange mask, and he was clad entirely in black.

"Who the hell?" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and pulling his gun from its holster.

"Hello Agent Rigsby," the figure jeered, and his voice caused Jane to flinch. Van Pelt looked back at him, concerned and confused.

"Ah, Mr Jane. I see you recognise my voice. Now, would you kindly ask your friend to lower his weapon, or else I'll have to kill you all. And I wouldn't want to do that, now would I." The voice was clearly male, though it had a strange, sort of high-pitched quality to it. It was certainly very distinctive, so it was unsurprising Jane had recalled it so quickly.

Rigsby turned back to the consultant, a confused frown across his face, awaiting an explanation. Jane looked back at him, eyes wide with horror. It took only two words, whispered in dismay, for the rest of the team to understand.

"Red John."


End file.
